■^^ 


Mm 


mlm 


OF   THE 


MEMOIR 


REV.  EDWARD   PAYSON,  D    D. 


SECOND    CHURCH   IN   PORTL.AND. 


BY  ASA  CUMMINGS, 

EDITOR   OF    THE    CHRISTIAN    MIRROR. 


Bene  orasse  est  bene  studuisse Luther. 


SECOXID  EDITZOXI'. 


BOSTON : 

PUBLISHED  BY  CROCKER  AND  BREWSTER, 

47  Washington  Street. 
NEW  YORK  :--J.  LEAVITT, 

182  Broadway. 

1830. 


DISTRICT  OF  MAINE,  TO  WIT: 

District  Clerk^s  Office. 

Be  it  remembered,  That  on  the  twenty-fifth  day  of  February,  A.  D.  1830,  and 
in  the  fifty-fourth  year  of  the  Independence  of  the  United  States  of  America,  Mrs. 
Ann  L.  Payson,  of  said  district,  has  deposited  in  this  office  the  title  of  a  book, 
the  right  whereof  she  claims  as  proprietor,  in  the  words  following,  to  wit: — 

"  A  Memoir  of  the  Rev.  Edward  Payson,  D.  D.  late  Pastor  of  the  Second  Church 
in  Portland.  Bene  orasse  est  bene  studuisse. — Luther.  Shirley  &  Hyde,  Printers. 
1830." 

In  conformity  to  the  act  of  the  congress  of  the  United  States,  entitled,  *'  An  Act 
for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts  and  books 
to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein  mentioned  j" 
and  also  to  an  act,  entitled,  "  An  Act  supplementary  to  an  act,  entitled,  '  An  Act 
for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts  and  books 
to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies  during  the  times  therein  mentioned  ;» 
and  for  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  designing,  engraving,  and  etch- 
ing historical  and  other  prints." 

J.  MUSSEY, 

Clerk  of  the  District  of  Maine. 

A  true  copy  as  of  record, 

Attest,  J.  MUSSEy,i  (7ZfirA;  Z>.  C.Maine. 


STEREOTYPED  AT  THE 
BOSTON  TYPE  AND  STEREOTYPE  FOUNDRlt 


'(LC-A^ 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


In  revising  this  work  for  a  new  edition,  the  compiler  has 
carefully  considered  the  various  suggestions  for  its  improve- 
ment which  have  been  offered  by  his  friends.  Of  these, 
some  he  has  adopted  wholly,  others  in  part :  from  others, 
agaiuj  he  has  felt  himself  constrained  to  dissent ;  not  for 
want  of  due  deference  to  the  judgment  which  dictated 
them,  nor  from  any  partiality  for  his  own ;  but  partly  in 
consequence  of  remonstrances  against  the  alterations  last 
alluded  to,  proceeding  from  sources  equally  entitled  to  re- 
spect. The  ultimate  decision,  in  every  case,  he  supposed, 
should  rest  ^'^nh  him,  whose  it  is  to  sustain  the  responsi- 
bility. T^^^  mere  critic,  however,  he  never  expected  to 
please.  -  i  estimating  a  work  of  this  kind,  judgment  should 
be  tempered  with  devotion.  Hence,  in  deciding  on  the 
use  to  be  made  of  the  numerous  remarks  of  his  friendly 
advisers,  who  differed  widely  from  each  other,  he  has 
given  the  preference  to  the  opinions  of  those,  who,  other 
things  being  equal,  were,  as  he  had  reasons  to  think,  most 
skilled  in  the  science  of  the  heart,  and  in  the  practice  of 
devotion;  "  who,"  in  the  language  of  the  apostle,  "by  rea- 
son of  use,  have  their  senses  exercised  to  discern  both  good 
and  evil."  Several  erasures  have  been  the  consequence, 
by  which  it  is  hoped  the  imperfections  of  the  book  have 
been  diminished.  Some  omissions  have  also  been  sup- 
plied, and  such  portions  of  the  work  as  are  most  liable  to 
abuse,  guarded  more  sXxor^  against  perversion.     By  en- 


iv  ADVERTISEMENT. 

larging  the  page,  the  quantity  of  reading  matter  in  this 
volume  is  made  to  exceed  that  in  the  first  edition  by  more 
than  twenty  pages. 

The  general  character  of  the  work  remains  what  it  was. 
The  feature  most  obnoxious  to  censure  is  its  melancholy. 
From  the  detail  of  desponding  feelings,  doubts,  and  temp- 
tations, unhappy  consequences  to  the  reader  have  been 
feared.  In  giving  to  these  so  much  prominence,  the  com- 
piler has  probably  erred ;  still,  they  could  not  have  been 
wholly  concealed,  without  the  sacrifice  of  historical  verity. 
Besides,  we  are  liable  to  err  in  judging,  a  priori,  of  the 
effect  of  such  writings.  Dr.  Payson,  contrary  to  maternal 
fears,  was  relieved,  comforted,  and  instructed,  by  reading 
of  the  melancholy  workings  of  Cowper's  mind.  We  might 
suppose,  that  such  desponding,  and,  it  might  almost  be  said, 
deistical  sentiments,  as  are  recorded  in  the  first  part  of  the 
seventy-third  psalm,  would  be  very  injurious  to  the  reader ; 
whereas  their  real  effect  is  to  give  force,  impressiveness 
and  beauty  to  the  language  which  follows,  so  inimitably  ex- 
pressive of  strong  faith  in  God,  and  confidence  in  his  provi- 
dential government.  In  like  manner,  should  the  reader  feel 
oppressed  by  the  distressing  exercises  which  are  detailed 
in  some  of  the  following  chapters,  let  him  glance,  for  a 
moment,  to  their  issue,  and  find  relief  in  contemplating  the 
triumphs  of  Payson's  later  days. 

Further  ;  it  may  appear  on  reflection,  that  there  could  be 
no  adequate  exhibition  of  the  degree  of  Dr.  Payson's  piety, 
without  a  corresponding  exhibition  of  the  obstacles  against 
which  he  had  to  contend.  That  he  did  triumphantly  sur- 
mount them  all,  is  a  fact  full  of  encouragement  to  the 
tempted,  desponding  Christian.  Indeed,  it  strips  persons 
of  this  description  of  their  last  excuse  for  not  persevering 
and  rising  superior  to  all  difficulties ;  for  where  is  the  in- 
dividual, whose  constitutional  hinderances  to  a  peaceful  andi 
constant  progress  in  piety  are  more  hard  to  be  vanquished, 


ADVERTISEMENT.  ^ 

or  more  aggravated  by  bodily  maladies  ?  Who,  then,  can 
succumb,  since  he  came  off  victor  ? 

It  may  also  deserve  consideration,  whether  the  de- 
velop ement  of  sorrows  and  depressions,  as  given  in  the 
former  part  of  this  volume,  is  not,  on  the  whole,  necessary 
to  "justify  the  ways  of  God  to  men  ;"  whether  it  is  not  in 
agreement  with  the  laws  which  God  observes  in  the  arrange- 
ments of  his  providence  and  in  the  dispensations  of  his 
grace,  that  attainments  should  bear  some  proportion  to  the 
efforts  by  which  they  were  acquired ,  that  conflict  should 
precede  victory ;  that  they  who  would  "  reap  in  joy" 
should  "sow  in  tears?"  Now,  it  is  well  known  that  Dr. 
Payson's  attainments  in  religion  were  far  above  the  ordi- 
nary standard;  his  spiritual  joys  transcended,  perhaps, 
those  of  any  other  tenant  of  earth.  Let  the  reader,  after 
having  examined  his  history  throughout,  say  whether  the 
"  seed"  is  disproportionate  to  the  "  fruit." 

It  does  not  affect  this  argument,  that  many  of  the  exer- 
cises and  affections,  of  which  he  was  the  subject,  have  no 
necessary  connexion  with  religion.  Some  of  them,  it  will 
be  seen  in  the  progress  of  the  work,  have  been  laid  out  of 
the  account,  in  estimating  his  personal  religion.  They  are 
too  plainly  and  too  bitterly  characterized  by  himself,  to  be 
mistaken  for  objects  of  rational  or  pious  desire.  Still, 
however,  where  they  have  not  a  criminal  origin,  they  may 
properly  be  ranked  with  other  afflictions,  which,  though  not 
good  in  themselves,  are  often  known  to  "work  out  the 
peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness." 

The  suggestion  also  has  occurred,  whether  the  records 
which  have  been  transferred  to  the  following  pages  were 
not  specially  furnished  by  Providence  to  meet  an  existing 
exigency  of  the  Christian  church.  The  great  enterprises 
in  which  she  is  engaged  necessarily  modify  the  instructions 
of  her  teachers  as  well  as  the  duties  of  her  members.  They 
are  constantly  exhorted  to  action,  as  indeed  they  should 


vi  ADVERTISEMENT. 

be.  It  is  an  active,  not  a  contemplative  age.  The  busi- 
ness of  Christians  is,  in  fact,  without,  among  their  fellow 
creatures ;  not  within,  in  communion  with  their  own  hearts. 
These  circumstances,  conspiring  with  man's  natural  aver- 
sion to  self-examination,  and  the  paramount  difficulty  of  the 
duty,  may  bring  on  a  deplorable  inattention  to  the  heart ; 
they  certainly  will,  if  relative  duties  be  regarded  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  private  devotion.  The  church  should  look  to  it, 
that  the  springs  of  action  be  not  dried  up.  The  benevo- 
lent operations  of  the  day  were  set  in  motion  by  men  of 
such  deep  and  heart-pervading  piety  as  Pay  son's.  Such 
piety  must  continue  to  urge  them  onward,  or  their  move- 
ments will  be  sluggish  and  inefficient.  The  two  classes  of 
duties  will  here  be  seen  to  have  received  mcxited  attention, 
and  their  reciprocal  influence  will  be  scarcely  less  ob- 
vious. 

In  executing  his  extremely  delicate  and  responsible  task, 
the  compiler  has  had  occasion  to  feel  the  value  of  the  coun- 
sel and  the  promise,  which  are  addressed  to  those  who 
"  lack  wisdom  ;"  and  can  take  no  praise  to  himself  that  his 
errors  of  judgment  have  not  been  more  numerous  and  more 
flagrant.  May  God  attend  the  perusal  of  the  book,  not- 
withstanding its  imperfections,  with  his  gracious  benedic- 
tion. 
•  July,  1830. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Page. 
Uses  of  religious  biography.     Birth  of  Edward  Payson — His  early 
impressions  ;  intellectual  qualities ;  filial  and  fraternal  conduct ; 
moral  character — His  literary  education:  enters  Harvard  Col- 
lege J  his  reputation  there ' 1 

CHAPTER  11. 

Comprising  a  pel'iod  of  three  years  from  the  time  of  his  leaving 
college ,,^ 12 

CHAPTER  HI. 

His  religious  history  during  the  period  embraced  in  the  preceding 
chapter 28 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Retires  to  Rindge,  and  devotes  himself  exclusively  to  his  prepara- 
tion for  the  ministry 56 

CHAPTER  V. 

His  state  of  mind  in  the  immediate  prospect  of  the  ministry.     .     .     74 

CHAPTER  VI. 

His  first  efforts  as  a  preacher — His  religious  character  furth:r  de- 
veloped  84 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Visits  Portland — His  favorable  reception,  and  Ordination.     .     .     .  10,^ 

CHAPTER  VIII.  1 

His  concern  for  his  flock — Reverse  in  his  temporal  prospects — Is 
taken  from  his  work  by  sickness ll^' 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Resumes  his  pastoral  labors — Letters — Review  of  the  year.  .     .     ,  1^8 

CHAPTER  X.  ^ 

His  dependence  on  God  ;  its  influence  on  himself  and  church — His 
uniform  purpose  to  know  nothing  save  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  cru- 
cified— Illustra-tion — Letters — Resolutions — Increased  success.  .  141 


Viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI.  Page. 

Permanency  and  strength  of  maternal  influence — Correspon- 
dence— Death-bed  anguish,  how  alleviated — Disgraceful  inci- 
dent— Price  of  popularity — Reasons  of  former  trials  developed — 
Letters,  &c 158 

CHAPTER  XH. 

Holy  aspirations — Gratitude  to  the  Saviour — Multiplied  labors — 
Novel  family  scene — Danger  averted — ''  Curious  frame" — Flat- 
tery deprecated — His  marriage — Becomes  sole  pastor  of  the 
church — Retrospect  of  the  year 170 

CHAPTER  XHI. 

Forms  of  prayer — Thoughts  on  public  prayer — His  sincerity — The 
importance  of  this  quality  to  a  minister's  success 187 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  pastor  in  action — Methods  of  exciting,  sustaining  and  extend- 
ing a  due  interest  in  religious  concerns — Preaching,  adminis- 
tration of  ordinances,  church  fast,  conference,  inquiry  meetings.  208 

CHAPTER  XV. 

The  same  subject — Bible  class — Pastoral  visits — Social  parties — 
Special  and  casual  interviews — Charm  of  his  conversation — 
Singular  rencounter — Whence  his  competency — His  publica- 
tions  236 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

His  exertions  without  the  bounds  of  his  parish — Influence  on  his 
ministerial  associates;  in  resuscitating  and  edifying  other 
churches — Visits  "  The  Springs" — Effect  of  his  example,  con- 
versation, and  prayers  on  other  visiters — Excursions  in  behalf 
of  charitable  societies — Translation  of  ministers — He  is  invited 
to  Boston  and  New  York 251 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Letters  to  persons  in  various  circumstances  and  states  of  mind.     .  266 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

'lis  private  character — His  affections  and  demeanor  as  a  husband, 
father,  master,  friend — His  gratitude,  economy,  generosity — His 
temper  of  mind  under  injuries 291 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

further  particulars  relating  to  his  personal  history,  and  religious 
exercises,  in  connexion  with  his  pastoral  labors  and  their  re- 
sults  307 

CHAPTER  XX. 

His  last  labors — His  spiritual  joys,  heavenly  counsels,  and  bright- 
ening intellect,  during  the  progress  of  his  disease — His  triumph- 
ant exit — Conclusion 344 


MEMOIR 


CHAPTER  I. 

Uses  of  religious  UograpTiy.  Birth  of  Edward  Payson — 
His  early  impressions ;  intellectual  qualities ;  filial  and 
fraternal  conduct;  moral  character — His  literary  educa- 
tion :  enters  Harvard  College ;  his  reputation  there. 

If,  as  it  has  been  well  observed,  "  the  memorials  of  the  good 
constitute  one  of  the  most  sacred  possessions  of  the  Church 
of  Christ," — there  is  an  obligation,  resting  on  each  successive 
generation  of  her  children,  to  perpetuate  those  living  evidences 
of  Christianity,  which  have  been  exhibited  by  their  most  dis- 
tinguished contemporaries.  It  is  not  submitted  to  our  choice, 
whether,  or  not,  we  will  preserve  and  hand  down  the  charac- 
ters of  such  as  have  been  eminent  in  their  day  for  tho  savor 
and  strength  of  their  piety,  the  ardor  and  steadfastness  of  their 
devotion,  the  consistency  and  power  of  their  example,  and  the 
abundance  and  success  of  their  labors  in  the  cause  of  their 
crucified  King  :  the  duty  is  imperative.  Nor  does  the  value 
of  a  mere  human  example  depend  upon  its  freedom  from  im- 
perfection, so  much  as  upon  the  degree  of  resistance,  which 
its  original  has  overcome  in  his  progress  towards  *  the  mark  of 
our  high  callii^.'  To  secure  the  object  contemplated  by  such 
a  memorialgitns  not  necessary  to  hold  up  the  character  as 
faultless, — nor  even  to  magnify  its  excellences,  or  extenuate 
its  defects.  A  strict  adherence  to  truth,  and  a  just  represen- 
tation of  facts,  will  not  only  be  safest  for  man,  but  most  effect- 
ually exalt  the  grace  of  God.  That  apostle,  who  labored  more 
abundantly  than  his  fellows,  recognises  it  as  among  the  causes 
why  he  had  obtained  mercy,  who  was  before  a  blasphemer, 
and  a  persecutor,  and  injurious, — ^that  he  *  might  be  a  pattern 
to  them  who  should  hereafter  believe.'  The  heart,  alive  to 
1 


2  MEMOIR  OF 

its  guilt  and  wretchedness,  would  sink  in  everlasting  despon- 
dency, if  it  might  not  revert  to  the  '  chief  of  sinners,'  as  among 
the  number  whom  Christ  came  to  save,  and  who  have  actual- 
ly obtained  salvation.  The  discouragements  arising  from  in- 
bred sin,  in  all  its  countless  varieties  of  operation,  would  de- 
press the  Christian  almost  beyond  recovery,  but  for  the  record- 
ed experience  of  others,  weighed  down  by  the  pressure  of  sim- 
ilar burdens,  who  finally  came  off  conquerors,  '  through  Him 
who  loved  them.'  From  the  *  great  fight  of  afflictions,'  which 
his  elder  brethren,  who  have  preceded  him  in  the  weary  pil- 
grimage, have  ^  endured,'  and  the  terrible  conflicts  with  pas- 
sion and  temptation,  which  they  have  survived,  he  may  learn, 
that  his  case  is  not  singular ;  that,  however  fiery  the  trial  to 
which  he  is  subjected,  still  '  no  strange  thing  hath  happened 
unto  him.'  There  is  no  unholy  bias  of  the  heart,  no  easily 
besetting  sin,  no  violence  of  passion,  no  force  of  temptation, 
which  has  not  been  vanquished  by  faith  in  things  unseen  ;  and 
that,  too,  in  circumstances  as  unfavorable  to  victory,  as  any  in 
which  men  now  are,  or,  probably,  ever  will  be  placed.  Ene- 
mies as  virulent  and  formidable  as  any  that  lie  in  wait  for 
our  souls,  have  been  successfully  resisted, — trials  as  disheart- 
ening, and  struggles  as  desperate,  as  any  that  await  our  faith, 
have  been  met,  sustained,  surmounted,  by  men  *  of  like  pas- 
sions with  ourselves.'  *  Out  of  the  depths  they  cried  unto  the 
Lord,  and  were  heard  ;  they  overcame  through  the  blood  of 
the  Lamb.' 

Nor  will  the  benefit  be  limited  to  the  fervent  believer,  in  his 
spiritual  conflicts.  These  monumental  records  will  meet  the 
eye  of  him,  who  ^  has  a  name  to  live  while  he  is  dead ;'  and 
they  are  adapted,  beyond  most  other  means,  to  break  his  fatal 
slumber,  to  excite  salutary  apprehensions  in  his  mind,  and 
fasten  there  the  unwelcome,  but  needful  conviction,  that  he 
has  *  neither  part  nor  lot'  in  the  Christian's  inheritance.  The 
marked  contrast,  which  he  cannot  fail  to  observe,  between  the 
operations  of  a  mind  animated  by  the  Spirit,  and  glowing  with 
the  love  of  God,  and  those  of  which  he  is  himaelf  conscious ; 
between  the  moral  achievements  of  a  man,  carrieft  forward  by 
the  steady  energies  of  a  purifying  faith,  and  the  few  and  slug- 
gish efforts,  which  fill  up  his  own  history, — can  hardly  fail  to 
reveal  him  to  himself,  jis  one  '  weighed  in  the  balance  and 
found  wanting.'  He  reads  of  exertions,  which  he  never  put 
forth ;  of  humiliation  and  self-denial,  which  he  never  practised  ; 
of  confessions,  which  his  heart  never  dictated ;  of  exercises, 
which  he  never  experienced ;  of  hopes  and  prospects,  by 
which  his  own"  bosom  was  never  gladdened.     In  the  character 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  3 

of  the  determined  Christian,  he  discerns  a  renunciation  of 
self,  and  a  godly  jealousy  over  the  workings  of  the  heart,  natu- 
rally deceitful  above  all  things,  which  are  totally  at  war  with 
his  own  self-confidence.  He  learns,  that,  under  all  varieties 
of  outward  condition,  self-mortification  is  still  an  eminent 
characteristic  of  the  follower  of  Christ;  that  no  man,  who 
warreth,  entangleth  himself  with  the  affairs  of  this  world;  that 
the  expectant  of  the  crown  of  righteousness  is  no  more  exempted 
from  the  agonizing  strife  to  obtain  it,  than  he  was  in  the  days 
of  primitive  Christianity.  In  the  modern  believer,  if  his  faith 
be  not  '  dead,'  you  identify  the  grand  features  of  that  religion, 
which  sanctified,  controlled,  and  supported  apostles  and 
martyrs. 

The  uses  of  religious  biography  extend  further  still.  It  is 
the  means,  under  God,  of  attaching  to  the  cause  of  Zion,  men 
of  great  energy  and  moral  worth, — magnanimous  in  purpose, 
wise  in  counsel,  vigorous  and  persevering  in  action.  In  how 
many,  who  have  done  valiantly  for  the  truth,  has  the  flame  of 
holy  zeal  and  enterprise  been  first  kindled  at  the  pages  which 
record  the  religious  experience  and  evangelical  labors  of  Bax- 
ter, Brainerd,  Edwards,  Martyn,  and  others  of  a  kindred  spir- 
it^— who,  but  for  these  memorials,  would  have  been  lost  to  the 
Church  of  Christ,  and  perhaps  have  become  her  most  deter- 
mined ^oes !  The  *  children  of  this  world'  understand  the  in- 
fluence of  such  writings,  and  wisely  preserve  every  thing  that 
is  memorable  in  their  heroes,  philosophers,  poets,  and  artists, 
that  youth  may  emulate  their  enthusiasm,  and  act  over  their 
achievements.  And  though  it  may  be  true,  that  "  modern 
biography  has  been  too  busily  and  curiously  employed  in  en- 
rolling and  blazoning  names,  which  will  scarcely  outlive  the 
records  of  the  grave-stone,"  still  *' it  is  not  easy  to  estimate 
the  loss,  which  is  sustained  by  the  Christian  community,  when 
an  example  of  eminent  sanctity  and  heroic  zeal  is  defrauded 
of  its  just  honors,  when  a  living  epistle  of  apostolic  piety  is 
suffered  to  perish ;  or,  to  change  the  figure,  when  the  lamp 
kindled  by  a  holy  life,  which  might  have  shone  to  posterity, 
is  suffered  to  go  out." 

If  Christians  in  the  ordinary  walks  of  life  need  the  stimu- 
lus of  such  examples,  much  more  does  the  minister  of  the  cross. 
He  has  his  full  portion  in  the  trials  and  discouragements,  that 
are  common  to  all  believers ;  and  his  mind  is  also  familiar 
with  causes  for  "  great  heaviness  and  sorrow  of  heart,"  in 
which  they  can  but  feebly  sympathize.  In  addition  to  his  own 
personal  security,  he  is  in  a  manner  responsible  for  that  of  his 


4  MEMOIR  OF 

flock.  Besides  working  out  his  own  salvation,  the  care  of 
others'  souls  bears  upon  him  with  a  pressure  which  none  can 
conceive  who  has  not  felt  its  weight.  And  when  he  has  toiled 
long  and  hard,  with  little  or  no  visible  success,  and  is  tempted 
to  exclaim^  "  It  is  a  vain  thing  to  serve  the  Lord  !"  or,  when 
exhausted  by  continued  labor,  and  racked  by  bodily  infirmities, 
he  is  in  danger  of  regarding  himself  as  exempted  from  the 
obligation  to  make  any  further  exertions  ;  it  may  preserve  him 
from  sinking,  and  stimulate  him  to  new  action,  to  know  that 
his  fellow-laborers  in  the  kingdom  and  patience  of  Jesus  have 
then  been  most  singularly  blessed,  when  they  thought  them- 
selves forsaken  ;  have  out  of  weakness  been  made  strong,  and, 
under  the  endurance  of  great  physical  debility,  and  the  most 
exquisite  mental  anguish,  gained  the  most  splendid  trophies 
under  the  Captain  of  Salvation.  Can  the  "  cloud  of  witnesses" 
of  this  description  be  too  much  increased  for  the  '  consid- 
eration' of  those,  v/ho  are  *  wearied  and  faint  in  their  minds  V 
Can  any,  to  whom  God  affords  the  opportunity,  be  excusa- 
ble in  neglecting  to  erect  an  additional  monument  in  the 
"  temple  of  Christianity,"  and  to  conduct  thither  the  despond- 
ing, though  uniformly  faithful  minister,  where  he  may  behold 
*'  the  names,  and  the  statues,  and  the  recorded  deeds,  of  the 
heroes  of  the  church,  and  the  spoils  they  have  won  in  the 
battles  of  the  Lord  ?" 

It  is  with  such  views  alone,  that  the  present  work  is  attempt- 
ed. The  hope,  that  good  results  will  be  realized,  is  not  the 
less  confident,  because  the  materials  to  which  access  has  been 
had,  are  of  the  least  imposing  pretensions.  It  promises  little 
of  incident  or  adventure, — qualities  which,  with  many,  con- 
stitute the  principal  attractions  of  a  book.  It  is  the  history  ot 
a  single  mind,  rather  than  of  a  community  ;  of  a  pastor — whose 
sphere  of  labor  was  chiefly  limited  to  his  parochial  charge — 
not  a  missionary,  whose  "  field  is  the  world,"  and  who  has 
traversed  seas  and  continents,  and  associated  his  own  history 
with  that  of  different  climates  and  governments,  and  opin- 
ions. The  Christian  hero  will  not  here  be  presented  in 
direct  collision  with  the  principalities  and  powers  of  this 
world,  whether  Pagan  or  Papal ;  but  in  an  attitude  not  less 
generally  instructive — that  of  one  "whose  warfare  is  within," 
and  who  successfully  applied  the  results  of  his  agonizing 
and  joyful  experience  in  training, 

by  every  rule 
Of  holy  discipline,  to  glorious  war, 
The  sacramental  host  of  God's  elect. 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


But  he  will  shine,  with  the  brightness  of  one  who  has  turned 
many  to  righteousness,  in  that  world  where  the  judgment  of 
character,  and  the  estimate  of  services,  are  according  to 
truth,  and  not  affected  by  what  is  dazzling  in  the  stations 
or  circumstances  in  which  men  have  acted. 


Edward  Payson  was  born  at  Pcindge,  New  Hampshire, 
July  2e5th,  1783.  His  father  was  the  Rev.  Seth  Payson, 
D.  D.,  pastor  of  the  church  in  Rindge,  a'man  of  piety  and 
public  spirit,  distinguished  as  a  clergyman,  and  favorably 
known  as  an  author.  His  mother.  Grata  Payson,  was  a 
distant  relative  of  her  husband,  their  lineage,  after  being 
traced  back  a  few  generations,  meeting  in  the  same  stock. — 
To  the  Christian  fidelity  of  these  parents  there  is  the  full- 
est testimony  in  the  subsequent  and  repeated  acknowledg- 
ments of  their  son,  who  habitually  attributed  his  religious 
hopes,  as  well  as  his  usefulness  in  life,  under  God,  to  their 
instructions,  example,  and  prayers — especially  those  of  his 
mother.  She  appears  to  have  admitted  him  to  the  most 
intimate,  unreserved,  and  confiding  intercourse,  which  was 
yet  so  wisely  conducted,  as  to  strengthen  rather  than  diminish 
his  filial  reverence  ;  to  have  cherished  a  remarkable  inquisi- 
tiveness  of  mind,  which  early  discovered  itself  in  him  ;  and  to 
have  patiently  heard  and  replied  to  the  almost  endless  inqui- 
ries, which  his  early  thirst  for  knowledge  led  him  to  propose. 
His  father  was  not  less  really  and  sincerely  interested  for  the 
welfare  of  his  son  ;  but,  from  the  nature  of  the  relation,  and 
the  calls  of  official  duty,  his  opportunities  must  have  been 
less  frequent,  and  his  instructions  have  partaken  of  a  more 
set  and  formal  character.  With  the  mother,  however,  op- 
portunities were  always  occurring,  and  she  seems  to  have 
been  blessed  with  the  faculty  and  disposition  to  turn  them 
to  the  best  advantage.  Edward's  recollections  of  her  ex- 
tended back  to  very  early  childhood ;  and  he  has  been 
heard  to  say,  that  though  she  was  very  solicitous  that  he 
might  be  liberally  educated,  and  receive  every  accomplish- 
ment, which  would' increase  his  respectability  and  influence 
in  the  world,  yet  he  could  distinctly  see,  that  the  supreme, 
the  all-absorbing  concern  of  her  soul  respecting  him,  was, 
that  he  might  become  a  child  of  God.  This  manifested 
itself  in  her  discipline,  her  counsels,  expostulations,  and 
prayers,  which  were  followed  up  with  a  perseverance  that 
1* 


6  MEMOIR  OF 

nothing  could  check.  And  they  were  not  in  vain.  From 
the  first  developementof  his  moral  powers,  his  mind  was 
more  or  less  affected  by  his  condition  and  prospects  as  a 
sinner.  It  is  among  the  accredited  traditions  of  his  family, 
that  he  was  often  known  to  weep  under  the  preaching  of  the 
gospel,  when  only  three  years  old.  About  this  period,  too,  he 
would  frequently  call  his  mother  to  his  bed-side  to  converse 
on  religion,  and  to  answer  numerous  questions  respecting  his 
relations  to  God  and  the  future  world.  How  long  this  seri- 
ousness continued,  or  to  what  interruptions  it  was  subjected, 
does  not  clearly  appear ;  nor  is  much  known  as  to  the  peculiar 
character  of  his  exercises  at  that  time.  But  that  they  were 
not  mere  transient  impressions,  seems  highly  probable  from, 
the  fact,  that,  in  subsequent  years,  his  miOther  was  inclined  to 
the  belief,  that  he  was  converted  in  childhood.  There  was 
some  other  cause  than  maternal  partiality  for  this  opinion, 
as  she  did  not  cherish  it  alone.  Besides,  his  intimate  friends 
have  reason  for  believing,  that  he  never  neglected  secret 
prayer  while  a  resident  in  his  father's  family.  The  evidences 
of  his  piety,  however,  were,  at  this  period,  far  from  being 
conclusive  ;  he,  at  least,  does  not  appear  to  have  regarded 
them  as  such ;  neither  were  they  so  regarded  by  his  father, 
who  had  earnestly  desired  to  see  him  a  decided  follov.^er  of 
the  Redeemer,  before  encountering  the  dangers  to  religious 
principle  and  pure  morals,  which  are  sometimes  found 
within  the  walls  of  a  college. 

How  far  those  mental  qualities,  which  distinguished  Dr. 
Payson's  maturity,  were  apparent  in  his  early  days,  cannot 
now  be  known  ;  for,  though  he  died  comparatively  young,  his 
parents  had  gone  before  him,  and  their  surviving  children 
were  all  3'ounger  than  this  son.  Strictly  speaking,  there- 
fore, no  companion  of  his  childhood  survives.  The  very 
few  incidents  belonging  to  this  period  of  his  history,  which 
have  escaped  oblivion,  though  not  adequate  to  satisfy  curios- 
ity, are,  on  the  whole,  characteristic,  and  afford  undoubted 
indications,  that  his  well-known  decision,  enterprise,  and 
perseverance,  had  dawned  even  in  childhood. 

That  he  was  a  minute  observer  of  nature,  and  highly 
susceptible  of  emotions  from  the  grand  and  beautiful  in  the 
handy  works  of  God,  must  be  obvious  to  all  who  have  lis- 
tened to  his  conversation  or  his  preaching.  His  taste  for  the 
sublime  very  early  discovered  itself  During  a  tempest,  he 
might  be  seen  exposed  on  the  top  of  the  fence,  or  some  other 
eminence,  while  the  lightnings  played  and  the  thunders  rolled 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  7 

around  him,  sitting  in  delightful  composure,  and  enjoying  the 
sublimity  of  the  scene.* 

He  is  said  to  have  manifested  an  early  predilection  for 
arithmetic  ;  and  was  a  tolerable  proficient  in  the  art  of  read- 
ing at  the  age  of  four  years — an  art,  which  no  man  ever  em- 
ployed to  better  advantage.  The  surprising  quickness,  with 
which  he  would  transfer  to  his  own  mind  the  contents  of  a 
book,  at  a  time  when  a  new  book  was  a  greater  rarity  than 
it  now  is,  threatened  to  exhaust  his  sources  of  information 
through  this  medium.  All  the  books  in  his  father's  collec- 
tion, and  the  "  Parish  Library,"  which  were  of  a  character 
suited  to  his  age  and  attainments,  were  read  before  he  left, 
the  paternal  home,  and  retained  with  such  tenacity  of  memory, 
as  to  be  ever  after  available  for  illustrating  truths,  or  enliven- 
ing and  embellishing  discourse. 

It  is  natural  to  inquire,  whether  there  was  any  thing  in  the 
circumstances  of  his  early  youth,  which  will  account  for  his 
mental  habits,  and  especially  the  rapidity  of  his  intellectual 
operations.  A  partial  answer  may  be  found  in  the  fact,  that 
his  time  was  divided  between  labor  and  study.  His  father, 
like  most  ministers  of  country  parishes,  derived  the  means 
of  supporting  his  family,  in  part,  from  a  farm,  which  his  sons 
assisted  in  cultivating.  From  his  share  in  these  agricultural 
labors  the  subject  of  this  Memoir  was  not  exempted,  particu- 
larly in  the  ''  busy  seasons"  of  the  year.  But,  whatever  were 
his  employment,  though  he  appears  to  have  engaged  in  it 
with  cheerfulness,  and  to  have  prosecuted  it  with  fidelity,  his 
thirst  for  knowledge  was  the  ruling  passion  of  his  soul.  This 
he  sought  to  quench,  or  rather  to  cherish,  by  resorting  to  his 
book  at  every  interval  from  toil,  however  short,  when  he  tasked 
his  mind  to  the  utmost  of  its  power,  intent  on  making  the 
greatest  possible  acquisition  in  a  given  time.  His  mind,  though 
strung  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  exertion  at  these  seasons, 

"  Beattie's  Minstrel,  it  seems,  is  not  a  mere  creature  of  the  imagination  i 

And  oft  the  crag-g-y  cliff  he  loved  to  climb, 

When  all  in  mist  the  world  below  was  lost. 

What  dreadful  pleasure  !  there  to  stand  sublime. 

Like  shipwrecked  mariner  on  desert  coast, 

And  view  th'  enormous  waste  of  vapor,  tost 

In  billows,  leng-thening-  to  th'  horizon  round, 

Now  scooped  m  gulfs,  with  mountains  now  embossM ! 

And  hear  the  voice  of  mirth  and  song  rebound, 

Flocks,  herds,  and  waterfalls,  along-  the  hoar  profound ! 

In  truth,  he  v/as  a  strange  and  wayward  wight. 
Fond  of  each  gentle,  and  each  dreadful  scene. 
In  darkness  and  in  storm  he  found  delight. 


8  MEMOIR  OF 

suffered  no  injury  thereby,  as  it  was  so  soon  diverted  from  its 
employment  by  a  call  to  the  field ;  and  every  repetition  of 
the  process  extended  its  capability  and  power.  The  acquisi- 
tions, in  this  way  obtained,  fiirnished  materials  on  which  to 
employ  his  thoughts  while  engaged  in  manual  labor,  which 
he  would  not  fail  to  digest  and  lay  up  in  store  for  future 
use, — a  voluntary  discipline  of  most  auspicious  influence,  as 
it  respects  the  facility  of  acquiring  knowledge,  and  the  power 
of  retaining  it. 

His  early  literary,  as  well  as  moral  and  religious  education, 
is  believed  to  have  been  conducted  principally  by  his  parents, 
except  the  studies  preparatory  to  college,  which  were  pur- 
sued, in  part  at  least,  at  the  Academy  in  New  Ipswich. — 
His  preparatory  course  was  completed  before  the  long  and 
fondly-cherished  desires  of  his  father  respecting  his  personal 
piety  were  realized.  Still  the  good  man  could  hardly  cherish 
the  thought  of  conferring  on  his  son  the  advantages  of  a  pub- 
lic education,  without  an  assurance,  grounded  on  evidences  of 
experimental  religion,  that  he  would  employ  his  attainments 
for  the  best  good  of  his  fellow  men,  and  the  glory  of  his 
Maker.  With  reference  to  this  essential  requisite,  he  used 
much  earnest  expostulation,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  say  to 
him,  "  To  give  you  a  liberal  education,  while  destitute  of  reli- 
gion, would  be  like  putting  a  sword  into  the  hands  of  a  mad- 
man." 

Whether  the  father  was  led  to  adopt  such  strong  language, 
from  having  observed  in  his  son  the  existence  of  those  proper- 
ties, which,  in  their  future  developement,  were  to  give  him 
such  power  over  his  species,  or  whether  it  proceeded  merely 
from  anxiety  to  transfer  his  own  feelings  and  convictions  to 
the  mind  of  his  son, — there  does  not  appear  to  have  been,  in 
either  the  disposition  or  conduct  of  the  latter,  any  particular 
cause  for  unusual  apprehensions  respecting  him.  His  filial 
affection  and  conduct  had  been,  and  ever  continued  to  be, 
most  exemplary,  as  manifested  by  his  letters  when  absent,  and 
by  his  reverence  for  his  parents  and  cheerful  obedience  when 
at  home.  His  fraternal  feelings  were  kind,  and  his  conduct 
towards  his  brothers  and  sisters  faithful  and  affectionate.  By 
them  he  was  greatly  beloved,  and  his  vacations,  when  he 
should  visit  home,  and  mingle  again  in  the  domestic  circle, 
were  anticipated  with  delightful  interest,  as  the  halcyon  days 
of  their  lives.  His  moral  character  comes  down  to  us,  even 
from  the  first,  without  a  blemish;  and,  by  consent  of  all,  he 
sustained  the  reputation  of  a  magnanimous,  honorable,  gener- 
ous youth. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  9 

His  father,  as  is  obvious  from  the  event,  had  formed  no 
peremptory  and  unalterable  purpose  to  wait  for  the  certain 
fruits  of  personal  religion,  before  sending  him  to  college  ;  and 
the  leal  cause  of  hesitancy  vi^as,  probably,  the  tender  age  and 
inexperience  of  the  son.  The  interval  of  his  detention  and  a 
favorable  season  for  the  application  of  religious  motives.  As 
such  it  was  improved  by  this  solicitous  parent,  and  not  in  vain  ; 
for  his  faithful  suggestions  and  appeals  were  afterwards  recalled 
by  the  object  of  his  solicitude,  with  most  grateful  and  impres- 
sive interest.  Young  Pay  son,  though  detained  from  college, 
was  permitted  to  pursue  his  studies, — but  whether  exclusively, 
or  in  connexion  with  other  employments,  does  not  appear, — 
till  he  was  fitted  to  join  the  Sophomore  class ;  when,  all  ob- 
jections being  waived,  he  entered  Harvard  College,  at  an 
advanced  standing,  at  the  commencement  in  1800,  about  the 
time  he  completed  his  seventeenth  year. 

He  had  now  a  new  ordeal  to  pass — a  severe  test  for  both 
his  talents  and  character.  Many  a  youth,  who  was  regarded 
as  a  prodigy  of  genius  in  his  native  parish,  or  in  a  country 
village,  and  who  anticipated  the  same  eminence  at  the  seat 
of  science,  has  found  himself  sadly  disappointed,  in  being 
obliged  to  take  his  rank  below  mediocrity.  Thus  it  had 
nearly  fared  with  Payson — not  that  he  was  destitute  of  real 
worth ;  but  there  were  circumstances,  which  prevented  that 
worth  fi*om  being  appreciated.  The  first  impressions  respect- 
ing him  were  unfavorable.  ^  You  would  have  taken  him, 
says  a  classmate,  for  an  unpolished,  ignorant  country  lad; 
exceedingly  modest,  unassuming,  and  reserved  in  his  man- 
ners. And,  as  we  generally  look  for  a  long  time  at  the  words 
and  actions  of  a  character  through  the  same  medium  by  which 
he  was  first  presented  to  us,  his  merit  was  for  a  long  time 
unknown.'  This  judging  from  appearances  is,  perhaps,  una- 
voidable, though  often  very  injurious.  -In  the  greenness  of  his 
youth,  Mr.  Payson's  modesty  might  easily  be  mistaken  for 
bashfulness ;  as  through  life  he  had  much  of  a  downcast  look, 
holding  his  eyes  inclined  to  the  earth,  except  when  warmly 
engaged  in  conversation ;  then  they  would  beam  most  expres- 
sively ;  and  when  addressing  an  audience  from  the  pulpit,  they 
would  "  pry  through  the  portals  of  the  head,"  and  give  a  thrill* 
ing  emphasis  to  the  language  of  his  lips. 

Mr.  Payson's  classmate,  just  quoted,  and  who  also  occupied 
the  same  rooms  with  him  during  the  whole  period  of  his  resi- 
dence at  college,  bears  decided  testimony  to  the  purity  of  his 
morals,  and  the  regularity  of  his  habits,  as  well  as  other  esti- 
mable qualities.     With  his  intimate  friends,  he  was    social. 


10  MEMOIR  OF 

communicative,  and  peculiarly  interesting  and  improving,  and, 
by  those  u^ho  best  knew  him,  was  much  beloved.  He  was 
distinguished  for  his  industry ;  his  first  care  always  was  to  get 
his  lesson,  which  engaged  him  but  a  short  time,  and  then  he 
would  resume  his  reading.  He  was  invariably  prepared  to 
meet  his  instructer,  prompt  in  reciting,  and  seldom  committed 
a  mistake.  His  manner  of  rehearsing  was  rapid,  his  tone  of 
voice  low,  with  a  kind  of  instinctive  shrinking  from  every  thing 
which  had  the  appearance  of  display.  He  seems  to  have  been 
regarded  as  no  more  than  a  decent  scholar  by  his  associates 
and  teachers  generally  at  college ;  but  "  after  having  been  with 
him  a  few  months,  I  was  convinced  that  he  possessed  uncom- 
mon mental  powers.  Others  knew  not  this,  because  they 
knew  not  the  man.  During  the  latter  part  of  his  collegiate 
course,  as  he  became  more  known,  he  rose  rapidly  in  the  es- 
timation of  both  the  government  and  his  classmates,  as  a  young 
man  of  correct  morals,  amiable  disposition,  and  respectable 
talents." 

The  testimony  of  another  classmate  agrees  with  this  as  to 
the  general  character  of  the  man,  but  is  more  discriminating 
and  positive  in  reference  to  his  merits  as  a  scholar.  "  The 
circumstance  of  joining  his  class  at  an  advanced  standing, 
combined  with  his  naturally  retiring  and  unobtrusive  manners, 
contributed,  probably,  to  his  being  so  little  known  to  a  large 
portion  of  his  college  contemporaries,  who  seemed  scarcely 
aware  that  his  talents  were  of  that  high  order,  by  which  he 
was  soon  afterwards  so  eminently  distinguished.  Yet,  even 
at  that  early  period,  he  manifested  an  energy,  hardihood,  and 
perseverance  of  character,  which  were  sure  indications  of  suc- 
cess, in  whatever  course  he  might  eventually  direct  his  pro- 
fessional pursuits.  In  the  regular  course  of  college  studies, 
pursued  at  the  time  of  his  residence  at  Cambridge,  he  main- 
tained the  reputation  of  a  respectable  scholar  in  every  branch. 
Intellectual  and  moral  philosophy  were  more  to  his  taste  than 
physical  science ;  yet  he  sustained  a  distinguished  rank  in  the 
higher  branches  of  the  mathematics,  as  well  as  natural  philos- 
ophy and  astronomy,  at  that  time  so  unpopular,  and  so  little 
understood  by  a  large  proportion  of  the  students."  It  is  not 
remembered,  however,  that  there  was  any  public  recognition 
of  distinguished  merit  in  him,  at  the  time  he  commenced 
Bachelor  of  Arts. 

The  reputation  of  being  "  a  great  reader,"  as  the  phrase  is 
often  applied,  is  a  very  undesirable  distinction ;  it  is  one,  how- 
ever, which  Mr.  Payson  bore  in  common  with  thousands,  who 
are  not  the  wiser  for  their  reading.     His  firequent  resort  to  the 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  H 

college  library  was  a  theme  of  raillery  with  his  fellow  students, 
who,  at  one  time,  represented  him  as  having  '  a  machine  to 
turn  over  the  leaves ;'  and  at  another,  as  '  having  left  off  taking 
out  books,  because  he  had  read  all  the  thousands  in  the  al- 
coves of  old  Harvard/  Ridicule,  in  his  case,  was  egregiously 
misapplied ;  for,  says  his  constant  companion  in  the  study  and 
in  the  dormitory,  "  every  thing  he  read,  he  made  his  own. — 
He  had  the  strongest  and  most  tenacious  memory  I  ever  knew\ 
It  is  truly  astonishing  with  what  rapidity  he  could  read ;  how 
soon  he  could  devour  a  large  volume,  and  yet  give  the  most 
particular  and  accurate  account  of  its  contents/'  Testimonies 
of  the  same  kind  might  be  multiplied,  and  confirmed  by  many 
anecdotes,  which  to  a  stranger  would  appear  incredible,  illus- 
trating the  power  of  this  faculty,  and  the  severity  of  those  tests 
to  which  it  was  subjected. 


12  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  II. 

Comprising  a  period  of  three  years  from  the  time  of  his  leav- 
ing college. 

Mr.  Payson  was  graduated  at  Harvard  University,  at  the 
commencement  in  1803.  Soon  after  leaving  college,  he  was, 
on  recommendation,  particularly  of  Professors  Tappan  and 
Pearson,  engaged  to  take  charge  of  the  Academy  then  recentr 
ly  established  in  Portland.  He  continued  in  this  office  for 
three  years,  at  the  close  of  which  he  was,  by  the  terms  of  his 
contract,  at  liberty  to  resign  it.  Of  this  liberty  his  new  views 
of  duty,  at  the  time,  disposed  him  to  avail  himself 

An  employment,  which  requires  the  daily  repetition  of  near- 
ly the  same  routine  of  duties,  cannot  be  very  prolific  in  inci- 
dent, or  very  favorable  to  the  developement  of  those  qualities, 
which  attract  the  public  eye.  Nor  is  it  an  employment  in 
which  real  worth  is  likely  to  be  appreciated,  except  by  a  very 
few  ;  though  the  subject  of  this  Memoir  is  not  thought  to  have 
had  any  special  cause  of  complaint,  as  to  the  estimation  in 
which  his  services  w^ere  held.  He  acquired  and  sustained  a 
good  reputation  as  an  instructor ;  but  from  a  man  possessing 
his  characteristics,  something  more  would  naturally  be  expect- 
ed. He  was  certainly  endued  with  a  rare  faculty  for  communi- 
cating knowledge,  and  v/ith  a  power  to  awaken,  and  call  into 
action,  the  mental  energies  of  either  youth  or  manhood.  In 
the  existing  methods  of  education,  however,  there  was  much 
to  obstruct  the  exercise  of  this  power.  The  instructor,  who 
should  do  much  more  than  folloAV  the  order  and  manner  of  the 
text-books  then  in  use,  would  probably  have  been  regarded  as 
an  empiric  ;  besides,  the  habits  of  society  were  then  opposed, 
more  than  they  have  been  since,  to  every  thing  which  bore  the 
appearance  of  innovation.  His  native  diffidence,  also,  would 
have  operated  as  a  powerful  restraint  against  venturing  on  any 
bold  experiments  in  a  sphere  of  action  and  duty,  in  which, 
judging  from  the  character  and  attainments  of  many  who  had 
filled  it,  little  improvement  was  to  be  expected. 

At  this  period,  he  was  but  a  youth  ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  sup- 
posed, that  he  engaged  in  the  business  of  instruction,  and 
prosecuted  it  with  that  all-absorbing  interest  and  determina- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  13 

tion  of  purpose,  which  distinguished  his  ministerial  career. 
It  is,  to  say  the  least,  extremely  doubtful,  whether  he  had  felt 
the  influence  on  human  exertion  of  that  principle,  which  is  in- 
dispensable to  man's  highest  achievements — doing  all  to  the 
glory  of  God.  As  it  was,  he  is  remembered  by  surviving  pu- 
pils with  gratitude,  respect,  and  even  veneration.  He  has  left, 
as  will  be  seen,  sufficient  evidence  of  his  deep  solicitude  for 
their  moral  and  religious  welfare,  from  the  time  at  which  he 
was  comfortably  assured  of  his  own  "  acceptance  in  the  Be- 
loved.'* 

It  would  seem,  from  some  allusions  in  his  sermons,  as  well 
as  from  hints  derived  from  other  sources,  that,  during  the  early 
part  of  his  residence  in  Portland,  he  indulged  himself  in  such 
amusements  as  were  fashionable,  or  were  considered  reputa- 
ble, and  that,  too,  with  a  gust  as  exquisite  as  their  most  hearty 
devotee— how  frequently,  or  to  what  extent,  the  writer  is  igno- 
rant. This  practice,  if  it  were  more  than  occasional,  would 
indicate  a  relish  for  social  pleasures,  in  the  usual  sense  of  the 
expression,  which  did  not  long  continue  ;  for,  after  his  serious- 
ness became  habitual,  he  was  averse  to  going  into  compa- 
ny, even  to  a  fault.  He  dreaded  an  invitation  to  a  social  par- 
ty, though  he  had  reason  to  expect  nothing  there  directly 
offensive  to  religious  feelings.  But  there  were  companions, 
whose  society  he  sought,  and  whose  intercourse  was  so  regulat- 
ed as  to  subserve  mutual  improvement.  They  were  select  lite- 
rary friends,  some  of  them  his  classmates,  whose  fellowship  was 
in  a  high  degree  intimate  and  endearing.  With  these  he  pass- 
ed many  pleasant  and  profitable  hours,  and  cemented  a  friend- 
ship, which  continued  till  death,  and  which  has  been  faithfully 
reciprocated  by  the  surviving  members  of  the  little  band,  and 
continues  to  exhibit  itself  in  unfeigned  respect  for  his  precious 
memory.  The  exercises  of  these  meetings  were  not  subjected 
to  any  very  rigid  and  formal  regulations,  such  as  would  have 
cramped  the  energies  of  the  mind,  or  restrained  even  its  wild- 
er sallies.  Mutual  confidence  was  the  bond  of  union,  which 
no  severity  of  retort  or  piquancy  of  raillery  could  sunder. 
Each  brought  forward  the  results  of  his  reading  or  invention, 
and  exercised  his  powers  at  discussion  or  free  conversation ; 
and,  by  this  "  action  of  mind  upon  mind,"  the  most  brilliant 
flashes  of  wit  were  often  struck  from  one  so  full  charged,  and 
so  quick  at  combination,  as  Payson's,  to  the  no  small  enter- 
tainment of  his  companions.  Of  these  intellectual  banquets, 
his  contributions  were  the  most  coveted  and  exquisite  portion. 

But  no  distance,  employment,  or  friendships,  could  v/eaken 
his  attachment  to  the  paternal  home,  or  diminish  the  strength 
2 


14  MEMOIR  OF 

of  his  filial  love.  Some  extracts  from  his  letters  will  now  be 
given,  which,  while  they  exhibit  the  son  and  the  brother  in 
the  most  amiable  light,  will  serve  also  to  illustrate  some  of  his 
intellectual  qualities.  They  are  addressed  to  his  "  Ever  Dear 
and  Honored  Parents." 

Portland,  Matj  20,  1804. 

''It  is  not  the  least  among  the  distressing  circumstances  at- 
tending the  late  afflicting  dispensation  of  Providence,  that  I 
am  unable  in  person  to  share  in  your  grief,  and  alleviate,  by 
filial  sympathy  and  affection,  the  keenness  of  your  sorrow. 
I  would  fain  attempt  to  afford  you  some  consolation  ;  but  the 
only  sources,  whence  it  can  be  derived,  are  already  your  own. 
I  can  only  say  for  myself — it  shall  ever  be  my  endeavor,  that, 
so  far  as  my  exertions  can  avail,  you  shall  not  feel  his  loss  ; 
and  that  we,  who  remain,  will  strive  to  fill,  by  our  increased 
duty,  reverence,  and  affection,  the  cruel  void  thus  made  in 
your  happiness.'' 

January  14,  1805. 

"  I  congratulate  you  both  on  the  welcome  news,  which  my 
sister  gave  me,  of  your  amended  health  and  spirits.  Mine,  \ 
feel,  flow  with  double  rapidity,  since  I  received  her  letter.  I 
witness,  in  fancy,  the  happiness  of  home,  and  long  to  partici- 
pate and  increase  it;  but  for  the  present  must  be  content  with 
rejoicing  alone.  I  cannot  possibly  plead  guilty  to  the  charge 
of  '  not  thinking  of  home,  so  often  as  home  does  of  me.'  On 
the  contrary,  I  believe  home  has  very  little  due  on  that  score, 
if  we  consider  the  frequency,  and  not  the  value,  of  the 
thoughts.  But,  my  dear  Parents,  if  a  few  of  those  thoughts 
could  be  imbodied  on  paper,  and  sent  me,  how  much  more 
good  they  would  do,  and  how  much  more  pleasure  they  would 
communicate,  than  if  they  were  to  remain  in  their  native 
place ! 

"  I  am  still  without  an  assistant,  and,  as  the  number  of  stu- 
dents has  been  increased,  my  task  is  very  laborious.  Howev- 
er, I  shall  soon  be  supplied. — Just  now  I  was  interrupted. 
It  was  my  assistant.  He  is  young  and  raw ;  but  so  much  the 
better.     He  will  not  render  me  small  by  comparison. 

"  I  had  a  pleasant  vacation.  All  of  my  classmates,  who  are 
in  the  district,  five  in  number,  met  at  the  house  of  one  of 
them.  The  recollection  of  past  scenes  was,  as  Ossian  says, 
'  pleasant  and  mournful  to  the  soul.'  There  is,  however,  very 
little  satisfaction  in  recalling  past  pleasures  to  mind  ;  that  is, 
what  is  generally  called  pleasure." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  15 

"  September  8,  1805. 

"  The  distress  I  felt  at  parting  with  you  was  soon  banished 
by  the  garrulity  of  my  companion,  whose  chattering  tongue 
for  once  afforded  me  pleasure,  and,  besides,  freed  me  from 
the  necessity  of  talking,  for  which  I  felt  not  very  well  quali- 
fied. I  once  thought  it  was  impossible  for  my  filial  affection  to 
be  increased  ;  but  the  kindness  which  first  gave  birth  to  it  in- 
creases every  visit  I  make,  and  that  must  increase  with  it. 
Were  others  blessed  with  friends  like  mine,  how  much  greater 
would  be  the  sum  of  virtue  and  happiness  on  earth,  than  we 
have  reason  to  fear  it  is  at  present.  Why  cannot  other  parents 
learn  your  art  of  mixing  the  friend  with  the  parent?  of  joining 
friendship  to  filial  affection,  and  of  conciliating  love,  without 
losing  respect? — an  art  of  more  importance  to  society,  and 
more  difficult  to  learn, — at  least,  if  we  may  judge  by  the  rare- 
ness with  which  it  is  found, — than  any  other ;  and  an  art, 
which  you,  my  dear  parents,  certainly  have  in  perfection. 

"  We  had  a  tolerably  pleasant  journey,  and  were  received 

with   kindness  by  Mrs. ,  and  with  politeness,  at  least, 

by  the  rest  of  the  family.     After  the  others  were  retired^  Col. 

kept  me  up  till  past  eleven,  explaining,  as  well  as  I 

could,  the  difference  between  the  various  sects  of  religion,  es- 
pecially between  Arminians  and  Calvinists.     *     ^     *     =^ 

"  We  had  a  long  passage,  but  met  with  no  accident,  except 
that  I  carried  away  my  hat — to  use  a  sea-phrase — that  is,  the 
wind  carried  it  away,  and,  there  being  no  one  on  board  that 
would  fit  me,  1  was  two  days  on  the  water  exposed  to  a 
burning  sun,  without  shelter ;  in  consequence,  my  face  was 
scorched  pretty  severely." 

"  September  20,  1805. 

"  I  sadly  suspect  that  this  plan  of  numbering  my  epistles 
will  prove  your  deficiency,  and  my  attention,  in  a  manner  very 
honorable  to  myself,  and  not  very  much  so  to  my  good  friends 
at  home.  This  is  my  fourth,  and  not  one  have  I  received, 
nor  do  I  expect  one  this  long  time.  However,  I  say  not  this 
by  way  of  complaint.  Your  kindness,  when  I  was  at  home, 
proved  your  affection  beyond  a  doubt ;  and  if  I  should  not  re- 
ceive one  letter  this  year,  I  should  have  no  right  to  complain. 
Yet,  though  not  of  right,  I  may  of  favor  entreat  for  a  few  oc- 
casional tokens  of  remembrance.  I  have  as  yet  scarcely  recov- 
ered from  the  inflation  and  pride  your  goodness  occasioned. 
The  attention  I  received  led  me  to  suppose  myself  a  person 
of  no  small  consequence ;  however,  a  month's  dieting  on  cold 
civility  and  formal  politeness  will,  I  hope,  reduce  me  to  my 
former   size.     In  the   mean  time,  I  am   convinced  that  my 


IG  MEMOIR  OF 

situation  here  is  not  so  much  worse    than    any  other  as  I 
imagined." 

The  following  letter  describes  a  scene  in  a  stage-coach. 
Those  who  have  witnessed  the  writer's  unequalled  command 
of  language,  and  power  to  accumulate  facts  and  imagery  to 
give  it  effect,  will  most  readily  conceive  of  the  overwhelming 
torrent  of  satire,  which  he  must  have  poured  forth  on  the  oc- 
casion described.  Travellers  have  often  brought  themselves 
into  a  highly  mortifying  dilemma  by  allowing  free  license  to 
their  tongues  among  strangers.  It  was  happy  for  the  hero  in 
this  adventure,  that  he  expended  his  forces  upon  a  legitimate 
subject  of  raillery. 

"  Portland,  Oct.  8,  1805. 
''My  dearest  Father, 

"  In  hopes  of  rescuing  you  one  moment  from  the  crowd  of 
cares  and  occupations  which  surround  you,  I  will  give  you  an 
anecdote  of  my  journey ;  and  if  you  condescend  to  smile  over 
it,  why  so  much  the  better.  When  seated  in  a  company  of 
strange  phizzes,  I  immediately  set  myself  to  decipher  them, 
and  assign  a  character  and  occupation  to  the  owner  of  each. 
But  in  the  stage  which  conveyed  us  to  B*****,  there  was  one 
which  completely  puzzled  me.  I  could  think  of  no  employ- 
ment that  would  fit  it,  except  that  of  a  =5t***#**  representa- 
tive, unless  it  was  that  of  a  ********=^*^  whose  pride,  being 
confined  in  B.  by  the  pressure  of  wealth  and  talents,  had  now 
room  to  expand  itself  A  certain  kind  of  consequential  gravi- 
ty and  pompous  solemnity,  together  with  his  dress,  might 
perhaps  have  impressed  us  with  respect,  had  not  a  pair  of 
rough,  callous  hands,  with  crooked,  dirty  nails,  lessened  their 
effect.  During  a  pause  in  the  conversation,  he  presented  me 
with  a  paper,  which,  on  examination,  I  found  to  be  one  of 
those  quack  advertisem.ents,  which  Mr.  ****  has  honored  with 
his  signature.  Not  suspecting,  in  the  least,  that  the  good 
gentleman  had  any  concern  in  the  business,  and  feeling  a  fine 
flow  of  words  at  band,  I  began  to  entertain  my  fellow  travellers 
with  its  numerous  beauties  of  expression,  spelling,  and  gram- 
mar. Finding  them  very  attentive,  and  encouraged  by  their 
applause,  I  next  proceeded  to  utter  a  most  violent  philippic 
against  quacks  of  all  denominations,  especially  those  who  go 
about  poisoning  the  ignorant  with  patent  medicines.  I  could 
not  help  observing,  however,  that  my  eloquence,  while  it  had 
a  powerful  effect  on  the  muscles  of  the  rest  of  my  companions, 
seemed  to  be  thrown  away  on  this  gentleman  aforesaid.  But, 
concluding  that  his  gravity  proceeded  from  a  wish  to  keep  up 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  17 

his  dignity,  I  resolved  to  conquer  it ;  and  commenced  a  fresh 
attack,  in  which,  addressing  myself  entirely  to  him,  I  poured 
forth  all  the  ridicule  and  abuse  which  my  own  imagination 
could  suggest,  or  memory  could  supply.  But  all  in  vain.  The 
more  animated  and  witty  I  was,  the  more  doleful  he  looked, 
till,  having  talked  myself  out  of  breath,  and  finding  the  longi- 
tude of  his  face  increase  every  moment,  I  desisted,  very  much 
mortified  that  my  efforts  were  so  unsuccessful.  But,  in  the  midst 
of  my  chagrin,  the  coach  stopped,  the  gentleman  alighted,  and 
was  welcomed  by  a  little  squab  wife  into  a  shop  decorated  with 
the  letters,  "  Medical  Cordial  Store."  I  afterwards  learnt 
he  is  the  greatest  quack-medicine  seller  in  B.  Excuse  me,  my 
dear  father,  for  this  long,  dull  story.  I  thought  it  would  be 
shorter.     I  feel  rather  out  of  tune  for  embellishing  to-day. 

"  We  have  lately  been  in  a  hubbub  here  about  a  theatre.  Af- 
ter a  great  deal  of  dispute,  the  town  voted,  to  the  astonishment 
of  all,  that  they  would  not,  if  they  could  help  it,  suffer  the  es- 
tablishment of  a  theatre.  One  man  said,  and  said  publicly, 
that  he  considered  it  as  much  a  duty  to  carry  his  children  to  a 
play-house,  as  he  did  to  carry  them  to  meeting,  and  that  they  got 
more  good  by  it.  Among  the  arguments  in  favor,  it  was  as- 
serted, that,  though  bad  plays  v/ere  sometimes  acted,  bad  ser- 
mons were  likewise  preached,  and  that  the  pulpit  ought  to  be 
pulled  down  as  much  as  the  theatre. — Adieu,  my  dear  father, 
and  believe  me  your  most  affectionate  son, 

Edward  Pays  on." 

''  October  Id,  1805. 

"  I  must,  my  dear  mother,  give  you  some  account  of  my 
comforts.  In  the  first  place,  I  have  a  very  handsome  cham- 
ber, which  commands  a  delightful  view  of  the  harbor,  and  the 
town,  with  the  adjacent  country.  This  chamber  is  sacred; 
for  even  the  master  of  the  house  does  not  enter  it  without  ex- 
press invitation.  At  sunrise,  a  servant  comes  and  lights  up  a 
fire,  which  soon  induces  me  to  rise,  and  I  have  nothing  to  do, 
but  sit  down  to  study.  When  I  come  from  school  at  night,  I 
find  a  fire  built,  jack  and  slippers  ready,  a  lamp  as  soon  as  it  is 
dark,  and  fuel  sufficient  for  the  evening.  An  agreement  with 
a  neighboring  bookseller  furnishes  me  with  books  in  plenty 
and  variety.  The  objection  to  our  meals  is,  they  are  too 
good,  and  consist  of  too  great  a  variety.  And  what  gives  a 
zest  to  all,  without  which  it  would  be  insipid,  is,  that  1  can 
look  round  me,  and  view  all  these  comforts  as  the  effects  of 
infinite,  unmerited  goodness ;  of  goodness,  the  operations  of 
which  I  can  trace  through  all  my  past  life ;  of  goodness,  which 
2# 


18  MEMOIR  OF 

I  humbly  hope  and  trust  will  continue  to  bless  me,  through  all 
my  future  existence." 

''  November  18,  1805. 
'^My  dear  Mother, 

"  I  last  night  witnessed  a  scene,  to  which  I  had  before  been 
a  stranger  ;  it  was  a  death-bed  scene.  A  young  gentleman  of 
my  acquaintance,  and  nearly  of  my  own  age,  had  been  confin- 
ed thirty-two  days,  and  I  was  requested  to  watch  with  him  ; 
and  a  more  exquisitely  distressing  task  I  hope  never  to  under- 
take. When  I  went,  there  was  little,  if  any,  hope  of  his  life. 
His  mother — whose  favorite  he  deservedly  was — though  she 
is,  I  believe,  a  sincere  Christian,  seem.ed  unable  to  support  the 
idea  of  a  separation.  Fatigue  and  loss  of  sleep  made  her  light- 
headed ;  and,  at  times,  she  raved  almost  as  badly  as  the  pa- 
tient. His  sister,  a  gay,  thoughtless  girl,  was  in  a  paroxysm  of 
loud  and  turbulent  grief;  while  a  young  lady,  whom  he  was 
expecting  to  marry,  heightened  the  distress  by  marks  of  an- 
guish too  strong  to  be  concealed,  and  which  seemed  to  flow 
from  tenderness  equal  to  any  thing  t  have  met  with  in  ro- 
mance. As  I  had  seen  nothing  of  the  kind  before,  its  effects 
on  my  feelings  were  irresistible.  The  perpetual  groans  and 
ravings  of  the  dying — whose  head  I  was  forjiours  obliged  to 
support  with  one  hand,  while  I  wiped  oil  the  sweat  of  death 
with  the  other ;  the  inarticulate  expressions  of  anguish,  min- 
gled with  prayers,  of  the  mother;  the  loud  and  bitter  lamenta- 
tions of  the  sister  ;  the  stifled  agonies  of  the  young  lady,  and 
the  cries  of  the  younger  branches  of  the  family,  (the  father 
was  asleep!)  formed  a  combination  of  sounds  v/hich  I  could 
scarcely  support.  Add  to  this  the  frightful  contortions  and 
apparent  agonies  of  the  poor  sufferer,  with  all  the  symptoms  of 
approaching  death.  About  two  o'clock,  he  died.  I  then  had 
the  no  less  difficult  and  painful  task  of  endeavoring  to  quiet  the 
family.  The  mother,  when  convinced  he  was  certainly  dead, 
became  composed,  and,  with  much  persuasion  and  some  force, 
was  prevailed  upon  to  take  her  bed,  as  were  the  rest  of  the 
family,  except  the  young  lady. 

"  I  had  then  to  go  half  a  mile  for  a  person  to  assist  in  laying 
out  the  corpse,  in  as  bitter  a  storm  as  ever  blew  ;  and,  after  this 
was  done,  watched  with  it  the  remainder  of  the  night.  You 
will  not  wonder  if  I  feel,  to-day,  exhausted  in  body  and  mind. 
Surely  there  is  no  torture  like  seeing  distress  without  the 
ability  of  removing  it.  All  day  have  I  heard  the  dying  groans 
sounding  in  my  ears.  I  could  not  have  believed  it  possible, 
that  any  thing  could  take  such  astonishing  hold  of  the  mind  ; 
and,  unless  you  can  remember  the  first  death  you  ever  witness- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  IQ 

ed,  you  can  never  conceive  how  it  affected  me.  But,  distress- 
ing as  it  was,  I  would  not  for  any  thing  have  been  absent. — 
I  hope  it  will  be  of  service  to  me.  It  is  better  to  go  to  the 
house  of  mourning  than  to  the  house  of  mirth.  Grief  has  a 
strong  tendency  to  soften  the  heart,  and  dispose  it  to  gratitude 
and  other  affections.  An  instance  of  this  I  saw  in  this  family. 
They  are  so  grateful  to  me  for — I  don't  know  what — that  they 

seem  unable  to  thank  me  enough." 

'' January  25,  1806. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  ****=**  last  evening.  He  is  in  the 
West  Indies,  and  has  just  recovered  from  a  fever.  His  letter 
is  more  friendly  than  any  I  have  received,  but  it  is  not  so  se- 
rious as  I  wish.  You  prophesied,  when  I  was  at  home,  that 
our  friendship  would  not  last  long ;  but  since  it  has  survived  a 
visit  to  the  Cataract  of  Niagara,  to  Saratoga  Springs,  and  a 
voyage  to  the  West  Indies,  it  is  something  of  a  proof  that 
many  waters  cannot  quench,  neither  floods  drown  it. 

*'  A  classmate,  who  has  commenced  preaching,  called  last 
week  to  see  me.  Speaking  of  an  old  tutor  of  ours,  a  very 
pious  man,  who  has  lately  lost  a  much  loved  wife,  he  men- 
tioned a  letter  written  by  him  while  the  bell  was  tolling  for 
her  funeral,  in  which  he  says,  "  The  bell  is  now  tolling  for 
my  wife's  funeral ;  yet  I  am  happy,  happy  beyond  expression." 
This  my  classmate  considered  as  a  sure  proof  of  a  very  weak 
or  very  insensible  mind.  It  is  needless  to  add,  that  he  is  an 
Armjnian.  I  daily  see  more  occasion  to  be  convmced,  that 
the  Calvinistic  scheme  is,  must  be  right,  but  I  cannot  wonder 
so  few  embrace  it.  So  long  as  the  reasonings  of  the  head 
continue  to  be  influenced  by  the  feelings  of  the  heart,  the  ma- 
jority will  reject  it." 

''February  9,  1806. 

*'  You  need  be  under  no  apprehension,  my  dear  mother, 
that  my  present  mode  of  living  will  render  the  manner  of  liv- 
ing in  the  most  rustic  parish  disagreeable.  On  the  contrary, 
I  shall  be  glad  of  the  exchange,  as  it  respects  diet ;  for  I  find 
it  no  easy  matter  to  sit  down  to  a  table  profusely  spread  with 
dainties,  and  eat  no  more  than  nature  requires  and  temperance 
allows.  And  I  should  take  infinitely  more  satisfaction  in  the 
conversation  of  a  plain,  unlettered  Christian,  than  in  the  un- 
meaning tattle  of  the  drawing-room,  or  the  flippant  vivacity  of 
professed  wits.  What  gives  me  most  uneasiness,  and  what  I 
fear  will  always  be  a  thorn  in  my  path,  is,  too  great  a  thirst 
for  applause.  When  I  sit  down  to  write,  I  perpetually  catch 
myself  considering,  not  what  will  be  most  useful,  but  what  will 
be  most  likely  to  gain  praise  from  an  audience.     If  I  should 


20  MEMOIR  OF 

be  unpopular,  it  would,  I  fear,  give  me  more  uneasiness  than 
it  ought ;  and  if — though  I  think  there  is  little  reason  to  fear 
it — I  should  in  any  degree  be  acceptable,  what  a  terrible  blaze 
it  would  make  in  my  bosom  !  What  a  temptation  this  disposi- 
tion will  be  to  suppress,  or  lightly  touch  upon,  those  doctrines 
which  are  most  important,  because  they  are  disagreeable  to 
most  persons  !  I  should  at  once  give  up  in  despair,  had  I 
nothing  but  my  own  philosophy  to  depend  on ;  but  I  hope  and 
trust  I  shall  be  enabled  to  conquer  it. 

**  If  you  knew  the  many  things  which  rendered  it  unlikely 
that  I  should  continue  here  half  so  long  as  I  have,  you  would 
join  with  me  in  thinking  an  overruling  Providence  very  visible 
in  the  whole  affair.  With  respect  to  continuing  longer,  I  do 
not  mean  to  form  a  single  plan  on  the  subject.  If  I  know  any 
thing  of  my  own  heart,  I  can  appeal  to  God  as  a  witness  of  my 
earnest  desire  to  be  in  the  situation  where  he  sees  best  to 
place  me,  without  any  regard  to  its  being  agreeable  or  disa- 
greeable ;  and  he  can,  and,  I  doubt  not,  will,  order  matters  so 
as  to  shorten  or  prolong  my  stay  here  as  he  pleases." 
'  '^  "  January  15,  1806. 

"  If  you,  my  dear  Mother,  can  pick  out  the  meaning  in  the 
last  page,  I  shall  be  glad ;  for  in  truth  it  is  but  poorly  express- 
ed. You  must  have  observed,  that  my  letters  are  very  ob- 
scure ;  that  the  transitions  from  one  subject  to  another  are 
rapid  and  capricious.  The  reason  of  this  confusion  is, — when 
I  sit  down  to  write,  forty  ideas  jump  at  once,  all  equally  eager 
to  get  out,  and  jostle  and  incommode  each  other  at  such  a  rate, 
that  not  the  most  proper,  but  the  strongest,  escapes  first.  My 
mind  would  fain  pour  itself  all  out,  at  once,  on  the  paper ;  but, 
the  pen  being  rather  too  small  a  passage,  ********  *^ 
4^**#*:5^**#4t*  gQ  much  by  way  of  apology,  by 
which,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  apologies,  I  have  only  made 
bad  worse." 

"April2,lB06. 
"My  dear  Mother, 

"  I  have  just  received  your  \2istpaquetj  and  am  so  rejoiced, 
I  can  hardly  sit  still  enough  to  write.  They  were  not  half 
long  enough  to  satiate  me,  and  I  am  more  hungry  than  before. 
Yesterday,  in  order  to  appease  my  hunger,  I  read  over  all  the 
letters  I  have  received  this  year  past,  to  my  great  satisfaction. 
You  must  not  expect  method  nor  legible  writing.  These 
qualifications  are  necessary  in  a  billet  of  compliments ^  but  in  a 
letter  to  friends,  I  despise  them.  However,  if  my  good  friends 
are  fond  of  them,  and  prefer  them  to  the  rapid  effusions  of  af- 
fection that  will  hardly  wait  the  pen's  motion,  I  will  soon  write 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  21 

a  letter,  that  shall  be  as  cold  and  as  splendid  as  an  ice-palace. 
You  may  usually  observe  my  hand-writing  is  much  better  at 
the  beginning  than  at  the  end  of  my  letters ;  and  this  happens 
because  I  gather  warmth  as  I  write.  A  letter  to  a  friend, 
written  with  exact  care,  is  like — "  Madam,  I  hope  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  in  very  good  health," — addressed  to  a 
mother,  on  meeting  her  after  a  year's  absence. 

"  I  did  not  recollect,  that  I  made  use  of  a  billet  to  enclose 
my  letters.  However,  I  suppose  it  did  just  as  well.  Pray 
give  my  love  to  Phillips,  (with  the  rest  of  the  dear  clan,)  and 
tell  him,  that,  instead  of  being  a  sign  of  poverty,  it  is  the  sur- 
est way  to  be  rich,  to  save  even  the  cover  of  a  letter  ;  besides, 
I  have  Papa's  authority  for  using  billets  in  that  way." 

These  extracts  show  how  he  appreciated  the  relations  of  son 
and  brother,  and  how  just  he  was  to  all  the  claims  which  these 
relations  involve.  His  filial  affection  is  among  the  loveliest 
traits  in  his  character,  and  it  never  suffered  any  abatement,  so 
long  as  he  had  a  parent  to  love.  He  continued  to  appropriate, 
unasked,  and  of  choice,  the  excess  of  his  earnings  above  his 
expenditures,  to  the  use  of  his  parents,  till  the  whole  amount 
expended  for  his  education  had  been  reimbursed.  By  word 
and  deed,  in  the  thousand  ways  which  affection  suggests,  he 
sought  their  comfort  and  happiness. 

It  was  not  till  the  third  year  of  his  residence  in  Portland, 
that  he  made  his  first  appearance  before  a  popular  assembly. 
On  the  4th  of  July,  1806,  at  the  request  of  the  municipal  au- 
thorities of  the  town,  he  pronounced  the  anniversary  oration, — 
a  performance  which  secured  him  unbounded  applause,  and 
which  he  was  solicited,  with  great  earnestness,  to  allow  to  be 
published  ;  but  no  persuasion  could  induce  him  to  give  a  copy. 
This  production  is  eminently  rich  in  imagery,  and  generally 
in  sound  political  views.  He  shared  with  many  wise  and  good 
men,  serious  apprehensions  for  the  result  of  the  experiment 
making  in  our  own  country,  whether  a  free  government  can 
be  perpetuated.  Those  who  recollect  the  circumstances  of 
our  country  at  the  time,  well  know  that  there  were  many 
reasons  for  doubt ;  and  that,  in  the  view  of  all,  an  important 
crisis  was  approaching,  which  will  account  for,  if  not  justify, 
the  coloring  in  the  following  picture  : — 

*'  The  vessel  of  our  republic,  driven  by  the  gales  of  faction, 
and  hurried  still  faster  by  the  secret  current  of  luxury  and 
vice,  is  following  the  same  course,  and  fast  approaching  the 
same  rocks,  which  have  proved  fatal  to  so  many  before  us. — 


22  MEMOIR  OF 

Already  may  we  hear  the  roaring  of  the  surge  ;  already  do  wg 
begin  to  circle  round  the  vortex  which  is  soon  to  ingulf  us. 
Yet  we  see  no  danger.  In  vain  does  experience  offer  us  the 
wisdom  of  past  ages  for  our  direction  :  in  vain  does  the  genius 
of  history  spread  her  chart,  and  point  out  the  ruin  towards 
which  we  are  advancing  :  in  vain  do  the  ghosts  of  departed 
governments,  lingering  round  the  rocks  on  which  they  perish- 
ed, warn  us  of  our  approaching  fate,  and  eagerly  strive  to  ter- 
rify us  from  our  course.  It  seems  to  be  an  immutable  law  of 
our  nature,  that  nations,  as  well  as  individuals,  shall  learn  wis- 
dom by  no  experience  but  their  own.  That  blind,  that  ac- 
cursed infatuation,  which  ever  appears  to  govern  mankind 
when  their  most  important  interests  are  concerned,  leads  us, 
in  defiance  of  reason,  experience,  and  common  sense,  to  flatter 
ourselves,  that  the  same  causes  which  have  proved  fatal  to  all 
other  governments,  will  lose  their  pernicious  tendency  when 
exerted  on  our  own." 

Alluding  to  the  reigning  policy  of  our  government  in  rela- 
tion to  commerce,  and  to  a  navy  as  a  means  of  national  defence, 
and  classing  among  its  effects  the  blockade  of  our  ports,  the 
detention  of  our  vessels,  and  the  plundering  of  our  property  by 
every  petty  freebooter,  he  thus  states  the  argument  by  which  it 
had  been  defended  ; — 

"  As  some  consolation  under  these  accumulated  evils,  we 
have  lately  been  told,  that  the  United  States  are  a  land  ani- 
mal— an  elephant,  who  is  resistless  on  land,  but  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  dominion  or  navigation  of  the  sea.  Grant 
that  they  are  so ;  yet  if  this  elephant  can  neither  cool  his 
burning  heat,  nor  quench  his  thirst,  without  losing  his 
proboscis  by  the  jaws  of  the  shark  or  the  tusks  of  the  alli- 
gator, what  does  it  avail  him,  that  he  is  allowed  to  graze 
his  native  plains  in  safety  V 

Some  of  his  paragraphs  are  as  significant  as  they  are  glow- 
ing :— 

"That  virtue,  both  in  those  who  command  and  those 
who  obey,  is  absolutely  essential  to  the  existence  of  repub- 
lics, is  a  maxim,  and  a  most  important  one,  in  political 
science.  Whether  we  retain  a  sufficient  share  of  this  vir- 
tue to  promise  ourselves  a  long  duration,  you,  my  friends, 
must  decide.  But,  should  the  period  ever  arrive,  when  lux- 
ury and  intemperance  shall   corrupt  our  towns,  while  igno- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  23 

ranee  and  vice  pervade  the  country  ;  when  the  press  shall 
become  the  common  sewer  of  falsehood  and  slander  ;  when 
talents  and  integrity  shall  be  no  recommendation,  and  open 
dereliction  of  all  principle  no  obstacle  to  preferment ;  when 
we  shall  intrust  our  liberties  to  men  with  whom  we  should 
not  dare  to  trust  our  property;  when  the  chief  seats  of 
honor  and  responsibility  in  our  government  shall  be  filled 
by  characters  of  whom  the  most  malicious  ingenuity  can 
invent  nothing  worse  than  the  truth ;  when  we  shall  see 
the  members  of  our  national  councils,  in  defiance  of  the 
laws  of  God  and  their  country,  throwing  away  their  lives 
in  defence  of  reputations,  which,  if  they  ever  existed,  had 
long  been  lost ;  when  the  slanderers  of  Washington  and  the 
blasphemers  of  our  God  shall  be  thought  useful  laborers  in 
our  political  vineyard ;  when,  in  fine,  we  shall  see  our  leg- 
islators sacrificing  their  senses,  their  reason,  their  oaths,  and 
their  consciences  at  the  altar  of  party ; — then  we  may  say, 
that  virtue  has  departed,  and  that  the  end  of  our  liberty 
draweth  nigh."  ^ 

Afi;er  drawing  a  most  striking  and  vivid  contrast  between 
the  circumstances  and  prospects  of  the  country  as  they  existed 
at  the  time,  and  as  they  had  been  at  a  former  period,  he  pro- 
ceeds : — 

"  The  imperfect  sketch  of  our  situation,  which  has  just  been 
given,,  is  not  drawn  for  the  sake  of  indulging  in  idle  com- 
plaints or  querulous  declamation  ;  and  still  less  is  it  intended 
to  lead  to  a  conclusion,  that  our  case  is  desperate.  But  it  is 
intended,  if  there  be  yet  remaining  one  spark  of  that  spirit,  one 
drop  of  that  blood,  which  animated  and  warmed  the  breasts  of 
our  fathers,  to  rouse  it  to  vigorous  and  energetic  exertions.  It 
is  to  the  want  of  such  exertions,  that  we  must  ascribe  the 
rapid  and  alarming  spread  of  disorganizing  and  demoralizing 
principles  among  us ;  and  we  can,  in  fact,  blame  none  but 
ourselves  for  the  evils  we  suffer.  Had  we  paid  half  that  atten- 
tion to  the  interests  of  our  country  and  the  preservation  of  lib- 
erty, that  we  have  to  the  calls  of  indulgence,  of  pleasure,  of 
avarice,  never  should  we  have  seen  the  sun  of  American  glory 
thus  shorn  of  his  beams,  and  apparently  about  to  set  forever. 
It  is  true,  indeed,  that,  when  aroused  by  some  particularly  inter- 
esting object,  we  have  started  from  our  slumbers,  and  seen 
the  fiendlike  form  of  Faction  sink  beneath  our  efforts.  But  no 
sooner  was  the  object  of  our  exertions  accomplished,  than  we 
returned  to  our  couches,  and,  while  we  were  exulting  in  our 


24  MEMOIR  Ot^ 

strength,  and  rejoicing  in  our  victory,  suffered  our  indefati- 
gable foe  to  regain  all  she  had  lost.  It  is  not  sudden  and 
transient  efforts,  however  vigorous  and  well-directed,  that  can 
preserve  any  state  from  destruction.  There  is,  in  all  popular 
governments,  a  national  tendency  to  degenerate,  as  there  is  in 
matter  to  fall ;  and  nothing  can  counteract  this  tendency,  and 
the  continual  endeavor  of  unprincipled  men  to  increase  it,  but 
the  most  energetic  and  persevering  exertions.  On  no  easier 
terms  can  the  blessings  of  freedom  be  enjoyed ;  and  if  we 
think  this  price  too  great,  it  evinces  that  we  are  neither  wor- 
thy nor  capable  of  enjoying  them. 

**  This  inexcusable  neglect,  so  fatal  to  our  liberties,  and  so 
disgraceful  to  ourselves,  is  occasioned,  in  some  measure,  by 
the  indulgence  of  hopes  not  less  dangerous  than  they  are 
groundless  and  delusive.  We  are  told,  that  the  torrent  of 
licentiousness,  which  is  rushing  in  upon  us,  is  not  a  just  cause 
for  alarm  ;  that  it  will  cease  of  itself,  when  it  has  run  its  ca- 
reer ;  and  that  the  people,  having  learned  wisdom  by  experi- 
ence, will  know  how  to  prize  the  blessings  of  order,  and 
return  with  alacrity  to  their  former  correct  habits.  True,  it 
will  cease  when  it  has  run  its  career ;  and  so  will  the  confla- 
gration that  destroys  your  dwelling ;  but  will  you,  therefore, 
use  no  endeavors  to  extinguish  it  ?  Beware  of  indulging  any 
hopes,  but  those  which  are  founded  on  exertions.  The  tor- 
rent which  approaches  us  is  the  overwhelming  deluge  of  Ve- 
suvius or  iEtna,  which  calcines  or  consumes  what  it  cannot 
remove,  leaves  nothing  behind  it  but  a  black  sterility,  and 
renders  ages  insufficient  to  repair  the  havoc  of  a  day. 


"  Away,  then,  with  those  idle  hopes  and  frivolous  excuses, 
w^hich  defraud  us  of  the  only  moments  in  which  our  safety  can 
be  secured.  Away  with  that  indolence,  so  unworthy,  so  in- 
consistent with  the  character  of  freemen.  This  is  the  very 
crisis  of  our  fate.  We  stand  on  the  extremest  verge  of  safety ; 
a  single  step  may  plunge  us  headlong,  never  to  rise.  The 
immense  wheel  of  revolution  may  be  put  in  motion  by  a  fly, 
though  it  would  require  more  than  mortal  power  to  arrest  its 
progress.  Those  who  attempt  to  check  its  career  must  fall 
the  first  victims  to  its  ponderous  weight ;  while  those  only 
who  urge  it  forward,  and  rejoice  in  the  horrid  devastation  it 
occasions,  can  be  safe.  But  let  us  not,  therefore,  give  way  to 
despair.  The  same  maxim,  that  bids  us  never  presume, 
teaches  us  likewise  never  to  despair.  By  neglecting  the  first 
of  these  precepts,  we  have  begun  our  ruin ;  let  us  not  com- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  25 

plete  it  by  neglecting  the  last.  Let  us  endeavor  to  open  those 
eyes  whose  sight  is  not  totally  extinguished  by  the  virulence  of 
the  disease.  The  bright  rays  of  truth  and  reason,  condensed 
and  reflected  from  a  polished  mind,  may  penetrate  even  the 
shades  and  mists  of  *******  prejudice.  Remember,  that, 
when  good  is  to  be  promoted,  or  evil  opposed,  it  is  the  duty  of 
every  individual  to  conduct  as  if  the  whole  success  of  the  en- 
terprise depended  on  himself  Remember,  too,  that  there  is 
no  individual  so  insignificant,  that  he  cannot  afford  some  as- 
sistance in  the  struggle  for  liberty  and  order. 

"  But  let  us  be  careful,  my  friends,  to  engage  in  this  strug- 
gle, in  a  manner,  and  with  arms,  worthy  of  the  cause  we  pro- 
fess to  support.  Why  should  we  disgrace  that  and  ourselves, 
by  contending  for  the  most  important  interests  of  our  country 
in  language  fit  only  for  a  tenant  of  Bilingsgate,  disputing 
about  the  property  of  a  shrimp  or  an  oyster  ?  Why  should  we 
quit  the  high  ground  of  reason  and  argument,  on  which  we 
stand,  to  wrestle  with  our  antagonists  in  the  kennel  of  scur- 
rility and  abuse  ?  *****  Why  should  we  exchange  weapons, 
with  which  we  are  certain  of  victory,  for  those  which  our  ad- 
versaries can  wield  with  equal,  and  perhaps  superior  dexterity  ? 


*'  It  ought  never  to  be  forgotten,  that,  except  in  some  few 
instances,  where  they  are  inseparable  even  in  idea,  it  is  not 
men,  but  principles,  we  are  to  attack.  Experience  has  at 
length,  in  some  measure,  taught  us,  what  we  ought  long  since 
to  have  learned  from  reason,  that,  though  ridicule  can  irritate, 
it  cannot  convince.  On  the  contrary,  it  rouses  to  opposition 
some  of  the  strongest  passions  in  the  human  breast ;  and  he 
must  be  something  different  from  man,  who  can  be  scourged 
out  of  any  opinion  by  the  lash  of  personal  satire.     ****** 

"  But  all  our  exertions,  however  animated  by  zeal,  nerved 
by  energy,  and  guided  by  prudence,  will  be  insufficient  to 
restore  us  to  the  height  from  which  we  have  fallen,  unless  we 
restore  those  moral  and  religious  principles,  which  w^ere  for- 
merly our  glory,  our  ornament,  and  defence.  Would  you 
know,  my  friends,  the  real  source  of  the  calamities  we  suf- 
fer, and  the  dangers  we  fear  ?  It  is  here ;  we  have  forsak- 
en the  God  of  our  fathers,  and  therefore  all  this  evil  has 
come  upon  us.  We  once  gloried  in  styling  ourselves  his 
American  Israel ;  and  a  similarity  of  character  and  situation 
gives  us  a  claim  to  the  title.  Like  them,  we  have  often 
been  delivered  by  his  uplifted  hand  and  his  outstretched 
arm;  like  them,  we  have  experienced  his  munificence  in 
3 


26  MEMOIR  OF 

temporal  and  spiritual  blessings;  and,  like  them,  we  have 
repaid  his  goodness  with  ingratitude  and  rebellion.  Like  them, 
we  have  bowed  down  to  the  idols  of  luxury,  of  ambition,  of 
pleasure  and  avarice  ;  and  as  we  have  copied  their  idolatry,  so, 
unless  Heaven,  in  undeserved  mercy,  prevent,  we  shall  soon  re- 
semble them  in  their  destruction.  It  is  an  immutable  truth, 
that  sin  is  the  ruin  of  any  people ;  and  wo  to  that  nation  who 
w^ill  not  believe  it  without  making  the  experiment.  This  ex- 
periment, fatal  as  it  must  prove,  we  seem  resolved  to  make. — 
Among  us  God's  laws  are  disobeyed,  his  institutions  are  de- 
spised, his  Sabbaths  are  profaned,  and  his  name  is  blasphemed. 
And  shall  he  not  visit  for  these  things  ?  will  he  not  be  avenged 
on  such  a  nation  as  this  ?     **=>«=** 

"  Will  any  reply,  with  a  sneer,  that  these  observations  have 
been  often  repeated,  and  that  they  have  now  become  trite  and 
old  ?  They  are  so ;  ^^^  *  =^  *  and  though  this  were  the  ten  thou- 
sandth repetition,  still,  if  we  have  not  yet  reduced  them  to 
practice,  it  is  necessary  to  hear  them  again  and  again.  Re- 
member, that  it  is  in  vain  to  boast  of  our  patriotism,  and  make 
high  pretensions  to  love  for  our  country,  while,  by  our  private 
vices,  we  are  adding  to  the  national  debt  of  iniquity  under 
which  she  groans,  and  which  must  soon  plunge  her  in  the 
gulf  of  irretrievable  ruin.  Hear,  and  remember — that  if,  in 
defiance  of  reason,  gratitude,  and  religion,  we  still  madly  per- 
sist to  follow  that  path,  in  which  we  have  already  made  such 
rapid  advances,  and  to  imitate  the  vices  of  those  nations  who 
have  gone  before  us,  as  certain  as  there  is  a  God  in  heaven, 
so  certainly  we  shall  share  their  fate. 

"  If,  then,  you  would  display  true  love  for  your  country,  and 
lengthen  out  the  span  of  her  existence,  endeavor  by  precept, 
but  especially  by  example,  to  inculcate  the  principles  of  order, 
morality,  and  religion.  Exert  your  influence  to  check  the 
progress  of  luxury,  that  first,  second,  and  third  cause  of  the 
ruin  of  republics ;  that  vampyre,  which  soothes  us  into  a  fatal 
slumber,  while  it  sucks  the  life-blood  from  our  veins.  Above 
all,  be  attentive  to  the  morals  of  the  rising  generation,  and  do 
not,  by  neglect  and  indulgence,  nourish  the  native  seeds  of 
vice  and  faction  in  their  hearts.  Let  not  these  counsels  be 
despised,  because  they  are  the  words  of  youth  and  inexperi- 
ence. When  your  habitation  is  in  flames,  a  child  may  give 
the  alarm,  as  well  as  a  philosopher.'' 

The  extracts  from  this  oration  have  been  the  more  copious, 
as  it  is  the  only  considerable  production  of  Dr.  Payson,  that 
survives  him,  whose  object  was  not  professedly  religious ;  and 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  27 

because  this  performance  is  thought  to  have  had  influence  in 
fixing  his  ultimate  destination.  This  was  the  commencement 
of  his  career,  as  a  public  speaker,  and  probably  the  only  oc- 
casion on  which  he  addressed  a  popular  assembly,  till  he  stood 
forth  as  the  ambassador  of  Christ.  In  selecting  the  passages 
to  be  preserved,  regard  was  had  not  so  much  to  originality, 
nor  to  brilliancy  of  imagery,  as  to  the  permanent  value  of  the 
sentiments,  and  their  suitableness  to  the  design  of  this  work. 


28  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  III. 

His  religious  history  during  the  period  embraced  in  the  pre* 
ceding  chapter. 

"When  did  Dr.  Payson  become  religious?" — and  "What 
was  the  character  of  his  rehgious  experience  at  the  time  he 
embraced  the  hope  of  the  gospel  ?" — are  questions  which  have 
been  frequently  "proposed,  but  never  satisfactorily  answered. 
With  respect  to  them  he  invariably  maintained  a  reserve, 
which,  to  good  people,  who  were  over-curious  to  know,  ap- 
peared wholly  unaccountable.  If  he  ever  fully  communicated 
those  inward  feelings  and  exercises,  which  issued  in  a  con- 
firmed hope,  it  must  have  been  to  his  parents  and  sister,  who 
are  no  longer  inhabitants  of  earth.  No  solicitations  by  others 
could  draw  from  him  a  particular  history  of  that  process, 
through  which  he  was  carried,  before  he  could  appropriate  the 
comforting  language,  "  Being  justified  by  faith,  we  have  peace 
with  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.''  The  compiler  of 
these  pages  studied  his  religious  history  in  an  inverted  order, 
and,  being  first  made  acquainted  with  that  part  of  his  experi- 
ence which  belonged  to  a  subsequent  period  of  his  life,  was 
ready  to  account  for  his  reserve  on  the  supposition,  that  the 
exercises  attending  his  conversion  were  of  an  extraordinary 
kind  ;  and,  if  adopted  as  a  standard  of  religious  experience — 
which,  considering  the  character  and  station  of  their  subject, 
and  that  sort  of  oracular  authority  which  was  connected  in 
many  minds  with  whatever  he  sanctioned,  they  could  hardly  fail 
to  be,  to  some  extent — would  occasion  much  discomfort  to  real 
believers,  and  be  far  from  recommending  religion  to  such  as 
have  never  yielded  themselves  to  its  influence. 

A  different  supposition,  however,  is  more  credible,  and  has 
something  like  evidence  to  support  it.  It  has  already  been 
seen,  that  his  mother,  who  doubtless  watched,  and  "  pondered 
in  her  heart,"  every  indication  of  the  state  of  his  feelings  on 
this  subject,  was  not  without  a  partial  belief,  that  he  was  con- 
verted in  childhood.  His  room-mate,  since  a  minister  of  the 
gospel,  thinks  that  '  he  experienced  religion  before  entering  col- 
lege, but,  owing  to  his  peculiar  situation  while  there,  became  a, 
backslider.'     Another  classmate,  one  of  the  literary  associates 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  29 

mentioned  in  the  preceding  chapter,  whose  speculative  views 
of  religion  are  supposed  to  differ  from  those  of  his  departed 
friend,  but  who  has  the  power  to  discern,  and  a  heart  to  appreci- 
ate worth,  wherever  found,  has  thus  expressed  himself  in  rela- 
tion to  these  questions : — "  His  theological  opinions,  during 
his  early  consideration  of  subjects  of  that  nature,  were  essen- 
tially Calvinistic ;  but  his  views  of  the  operative  power  of  re- 
ligious faith  upon  the  heart  and  life,  were  materially  altered, 
previous  to  entering  upon  the  great  work  which  occupied  the 
remainder  of  his  days.  The  important  change  took  place 
gradually,  not  from  any  sudden  or  overpowering  impressions." 
With  such  an  origin  correspond  the  earlier  fruits  and  opera- 
tions of  his  religion,  so  far  as  they  can  be  gathered  from  writ- 
ings which  he  has  left  behind  him.  His  religion  was  of  a 
comparatively  gentle,  unobtrusive,  amiable,  yet  progressive, 
character,  less  marked  by  the  extremes  of  agonizing  and  tri- 
umphant feelings,  than  it  was  at  a  subsequent  period — a  differ- 
ence, for  which  the  reader  will,  in  the  sequel,  be  at  no  loss  to 
account.  From  the  early  part  of  1804,  religion  seems  to  have 
been  his  all-engrossing  concern ;  his  attention  was  then  ar- 
rested, and  fixed  so  as  never  afterwards  to  be  diverted,  for  any 
length  of  time,  from  the  subject.  Whether  he  were  in  an  un- 
converted, or  backslidden  state,  he  was  then  roused,  as  from 
sleep,  to  take  a  solemn  view  of  his  relations  as  an  accountable 
and  immortal  being.  The  occasion  of  this  new  or  revived 
concern  for  his  soul,  was  the  death  of  a  beloved  brother.  A 
letter  to  his  parents,  in  answer  to  one  which  announced  the 
sorrowful  tidings,  is  the  earliest  production  of  his  pen,  which 
has  escaped  oblivion,  and,  on  this  account  alone,  will  be  read 
with  interest.  But  it  has  a  higher  value,  as  it  enables  us  to 
date  the  commencement  of  his  attention  to  his  spiritual  in-  ■ 
terests  as  far  back  as  May  20,  1804,*  the  time  when  his  let- 
ter was  dated,  and  it  more  than  intimates  that  the  subject  with 
him  was  not  new. 

'*  My  dear  mother's  fears  respecting  my  attention  to  relig- 

*  This  date  is  given,  as  it  appears  in  Dr.  Payson's  hand-writing.  A  corre- 
spondent, however,  places  it  a  year  later.  If  the  date  of  the  brother's  death 
has  been  preserved  on  the  Family  Record,  which  is  altogether  probable,  to 
that  date  this  change  in  his  feelings  should  be  referred.  It  is  possible  some- 
thing may  have  faded  from  the  last  of  the  figures  denoting  the  year. 

It  has  been  stated,  on  credible  authority,  that  Dr.  Payson  was  so  much  af- 
fected by  this  bereavement,  that  he  confined  himself  to  his  chamber  for  three 
days  J  and  that,  previously  to  this  period,  he  had  purposed  to  devote  himself  to 
the  profession  of  the  law.  If  so,  the  affliction  was  no  less  a  mercy  to  the 
church  than  to  himself. 

''  God  is  his  own  Interpreter.'' 

3* 


30  RfEMOIR  OF 

ious  concerns  were,  alas !  but  too  well  founded.  Infatuated 
by  the  pleasures  and  amusements  which  this  place  affords,  and 
which  took  the  more  powerful  hold  on  my  senses  from  being 
adorned  with  a  refinement  to  which  I  had  before  been  a  stran- 
ger, I  gradually  grew  cold  and  indifferent  to  religion;  and, 
though  I  still  made  attempts  to  reform,  they  were  too  transient 
to  be  effectual. 

"  From  this  careless  frame,  nothing  but  a  shock  like  that  I 
have  received,  could  have  roused  me  ;  and  though  my  deceit- 
ful heart  will,  I  fear,  draw  me  back  again  into  the  snare,  as 
soon  as  the  first  impression  is  worn  off,  yet  I  hope,  by  the  as- 
sistance of  divine  grace,  that  this  dispensation  will  prove  of 
eternal  benefit.  This  is  my  most  earnest  prayer,  and  I  know 
it  will  be  yours. 

"  In  reflecting  on  the  ends  of  divine  Providence  in  this 
event,  I  am  greatly  distressed.  To  you,  my  dear  parents,  it 
could  not  be  necessary.  My  sister,  as  you  sometime  since  in- 
formed me,  has  turned  her  attention  to  religion ;  the  other 
children  are  too  young  to  receive  benefit  from  it.  It  remains, 
then,  that  I  am  the  Achan,  who  has  drawn  down  this  punish- 
ment, and  occasioned  this  distress  to  my  friends.  My  care- 
less, obdurate  heart  rendered  it  necessary  to  punish  and  hum- 
ble it :  and  O  that  the  punishment  had  fallen  where  it  was 
due  !     But  I  can  pursue  the  subject  no  further." — 

Here  is  the  subdued  tone  of  the  penitent,  *  come  to  himself, 
and  returning  to  his  Father.'  Of  his  progress  in  piety  for  the 
next  six  months,  nothing  is  known  except  what  may  be  infer- 
red from  a  letter  dated  Dec.  12th  of  the  same  year.  An 
extract  will  show  that  he  was  not  inattentive  to  what  passed 
in  his  own  heart,  nor  without  experience  in  the  Christian 
conflict. 

"  I  have  nothing  but  complaints  of  myself  to  make,  nothing 
but  the  same  old  story  of  erring  and  repenting,  but  never  re- 
forming. I  fear  I  am  in  a  sad  way.  I  attend  public  worship, 
and  think  of  every  subject  but  the  proper  one ;  or  if,  by  strong 
exertions,  I  fix  my  attention,  for  a  few  minutes,  I  feel  an  irre- 
sistible propensity  to  criticise  the  preacher,  instead  of  attend- 
ing to  the  instructions  ;  and,  notwithstanding  a  full  conviction 
that  this  conduct  is  wrong,  I  persist  in  it  still.  Hence  it  hap- 
pens, that  the  Sabbath,  which  is  so  admirably  calculated  to 
keep  alive  a  sense  of  religion,  becomes  a  stumbling-block. 
The  thought  of  my  sinful  neglect  and  inattention  so  shames 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  3| 

and  distresses  me,  that  I  am  unable  to  approach  the  throne  of 
grace,  through  shame.  As  this,  I  know,  is  the  fruit  of  a  self- 
righteous  spirit,  I  strive  against  it ;  and,  after  two  or  three 
days,  perhaps,  am  enabled  to  trust  in  Christ  for  the  pardon  of 
that  and  other  sins.  But,  another  Sabbath,  the  same  round  is 
repeated.  Thus  I  go  on,  sinning  and  humbling  myself  after 
long  seeking  for  a  proper  sense  of  my  sin,  then  confessing  it 
vvith  contrition  and  remorse  ;  and,  the  next  moment,  even 
while  the  joy  of  obtained  pardon  and  gratitude  for  divine  favor 
is  thrilling  in  my  heart,  plunging,  on  the  most  trivial  tempta- 
tion, into  the  same  error,  whose  bitter  consequences  I  had  so 
lately  felt.  Shame  and  remorse  for  the  ungrateful  returns  I 
have  made  for  the  blessings  bestowed,  prevent  secret  prayer, 
frequently  for  two  or  three  days  together,  until  I  can  no  longer 
support  it ;  and  though  I  have  so  often  experienced  forgiving 
love,  I  am  too  proud  to  ask  for  it." 

•  A  few  weeks  afterwards,  he  writes  thus  : — "  I  feel  convinced 
by  experience,  that,  if  I  relax  my  exertions  for  ever  so  short  a 
time,  it  will  require  additional  exertions  to  repair  it,  and  per- 
haps occasion  a  week's  gloom  and  despondency  ;  yet  the  least 
temptation  leads  me  to  do  what  I  feel  conscious,  at  the  time, 
I  shall  severely  smart  for.  In  the  impracticable  attempt  to 
reconcile  God  and  the  world,  I  spend  my  time  very  unhappily, 
neither  enjoying  the  comforts  of  this  world,  nor  of  religion. 
But  I  have  at  last  determined  to  renounce  the  false  pleasures 
for  which  I  pay  so  dear,  and  this  I  should  have  done  long  ago, 
but  for  the  advice  and  example  of  some  whose  judgment  I  re- 
spected." 

"  I  have  lately  been  severely  tried  with  doubts  and  difficul- 
ties respecting  many  parts  of  Scripture.  Reading  the  other 
day,  I  met  with  this  passage,  "  for  his  great  name's  sake." 
It  w^as  immediately  suggested  to  my  mind,  that,  as  the  Deity 
bestowed  all  his  favor  on  us  "  for  his  great  name's  sake,"  we 
were  under  no  obligations  to  feel  grateful  for  them.  And 
though  my  heart  assented  to  the  propriety  of  gratitude,  my 
head  would  not.  In  hearing  my  scholars  recite  the  Greek 
Testament,  I  am  disturbed  by  numberless  seeming  inconsis- 
tencies and  doubts,  which,  though  they  do  not  shake  my  be- 
lief, render  me  for  a  time  extremely  miserable.  I  find  no  re- 
lief in  these  trials  from  the  treatises  which  have  been  written 
in  proof  of  the  truth  of  revelation.  It  is  from  a  different 
source  that  assistance  is  received. 


32  MEMOIR  OF 

'^  My  dearest  Mother,  April  20,  1805. 

"  I  have  just  been  perusing  something  excessively  interesting 
to  my  feelings.  It  is  a  short  extract  from  your  journal  in  my 
sister's  letter.  Surely  it  is  my  own  fault,  that  I  do  not  resem- 
ble Samuel  in  more  instances  than  one.  What  a  disgrace  to 
me,  that,  with  such  rare  and  inestimable  advantages,  I  have 
made  no  greater  progress  !  However,  thanks  to  the  fervent, 
effectual  prayers  of  my  righteous  parents,  and  the  tender  mer- 
cies of  my  God  upon  me,  I  have  reason  to  hope,  that  the  pious 
wishes,  breathed  over  my  infant  head,  are  in  some  measure 
fulfilled ;  nor  would  I  exchange  the  benefits  which  I  have 
derived  from  my  parents  for  the  inheritance  of  any  monarch* 
in  the  universe. 

"  I  feel  inclined  to  hope  that  I  am  progressing,  though  by 
slow  and  imperceptible  degrees,  in  the  knowledge  of  divine 
things.  On  comparing  my  former  and  present  views,  I  find 
that  the  latter  are  much  less  confused  and  perplexed ;  that  I 
have  clearer  conceptions  of  my  utter  inability  to  take  a  single 
step  in  religion  without  divine  assistance,  of  the  consequent 
necessity  of  a  Saviour,  and  of  the  way  of  salvation  by  him. 
Yet  I  cannot  find  that  my  conduct,  my  heart  or  disposition  is 
made  better.  On  the  contrary,  I  fear  they  are  worse  than 
ever." 

"Jwnel2,  1805. 
*'  I  find  I  have  been  trying  to  establish  a  righteous- 
ness of  my  own,  though  till  lately  I  thought  myself  free  from 
any  such  design.  Hence  arose  all  that  unwillingness  to  per- 
form the  public  and  private  exercises  of  devotion,  which  I  felt 
afler  any  neglect  of  duty.  I  wanted,  forsooth,  to  be  encour- 
aged to  hope  for  an  answer  of  peace,  by  some  merits  of  my 
own,  and  so  felt  unwilling  to  approach  the  throne  of  grace, 
when  I  had  been  guilty  of  any  thing  which  lessened  my  stock 
of  goodness.  In  short,  it  was  the  same  kind  of  reluctance 
which  I  should  feel  to  approach  a  fellow  being  whom  I  had 
injured.  And  this,  which  I  now  see  arose  from  pride,  I  fond- 
ly thought  was  the  effect  of  great  humility.  Finding  my- 
self so  deceived  here,  and  in  numberless  other  instances,  I 
am  utterly  at  a  loss  what  to  do.     If  I  attempt  to  perform  any 

*  The  admirers  of  Cowper — ^between  whom  and  the  subject  of  this  Memoir 
there  are  several  strong  points  of  resemblance — will  be  reminded,  at  once,  of 
tliose  beautiful  lines : 

"  My  boast  is  not  that  I  deduce  my  birth 
From  loins  enthroned,  and  rulers  of  the  earth  5 
But  higher  far  my  proud  pretensions  rise  ; 
The  son  of  parents  passed  into  the  skies." 


EDWARD  PAYSON. 


duty,  I  am  afraid  it  is  only  an  attempt  to  build  up  a  fabric  of 
my  own ;  and  if  I  neglect  it,  the  case  is  still  worse. 


"  Since  the  period  of  my  leaving  home  for  Cambridge,  it 
has  appeared  the  most  discouraging  circumstance  attending 
the  spread  of  religion,  that  many  who  undertake  to  preach  it 
are  so  shamefully  negligent.  Of  this,  my  dear  mother,  you 
can  form  no  just  idea,  unless  you  have  heard  them.  While 
their  hearers  are  wishing  and  longing  for  spiritual  foOxi,  they 
are  obliged  to  rest  content  with  cold,  dry  lectures  on  morality, 
enforced  by  any  motives  rather  than  evangelical.  These  min- 
isters content  themselves,  generally,  with  pruning  off  some  of 
the  most  prominent  excrescences  of  vice  ;  they  leave  the  root 
untouched,  and  cut  off  only  the  leaves.  The  more  I  think 
of  it,  the  more  difficult  does  the  duty  appear  ;  and  I  tremble 
at  the  thought  of  incurring  such  a  responsibility.  I  fear, 
however,  that  part  of  my  reluctance  arises  from  an  indolent 
disposition,  from  an  unwillingness  to  encounter  the  fatigues, 
the  difficulties  and  dangers  attending  the  performance  of  a 
clergyman's  duty.  I  am  afraid  of  conferring  too  much  with 
flesh  and  blood." 

The  next  notices  which  he  has  lefl  of  himself  are  found  in 
a  manuscript  volume,  written  in  characters  which  it  has  been 
a  long  and  difficult  work  to  decipher.  The  following  are  the 
first  two  paragraphs : — 

^^  July  25,  1805.  This  day,  being  my  twenty-second  birth 
day,  I  have  determined  to  commence  a  diary,  as  a  check  on 
the  misemploy ment  of  time." 

Same  date.  "  Having  resolved  this  day  to  dedicate  myself 
to  my  Creator,  in  a  serious  and  solemn  manner,  by  a  written 
covenant,  I  took  a  review  of  my  past  life,  and  of  the  numerous 
mercies  by  which  it  has  been  distinguished.  Then,  with  sin- 
cerity, as  I  humbly  hope,  I  took  the  Lord  to  be  my  God,  and 
engaged  to  love,  serve,  and  obey  him.  Relying  on  the  assist- 
ance of  his  Holy  Spirit,  I  engaged  to  take  the  holy  Scriptures 
as  the  rule  of  my  conduct,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  be  ray 
Saviour,  and  the  Spirit  of  all  grace  and  consolation  as  my 
Guide  and  Sanctifier.     The  vows  of  God  are  upon  me." 

Subsequent  entries  in  his  diary  show  an  ever-active  de- 
sire to  '  pay  the  vows  which  his  lips  had  uttered/     He  made 


f 


34  MEMOIR  OF 

Strenuous  efforts  to  redeem  the  morning  hours  from  sleep,  that 
he  might  enjoy  an  uninterrupted  season  for  reading  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  other  devotional  exercises  ;  and,  when  he  failed  of 
this,  he  suffered  much  in  consequence,  and  lamented  it  with 
deep  feeling.  His  diligence  in  business,  as  well  as  fervor  of 
spirit,  are  abundantly  apparent  from  the  account  which  he 
has  given  of  the  employment  of  every  hour,  from  four  in  the 
morning  to  ten  at  night. — In  a  letter  to  his  parents,  written 
on  this  anniversary,  he  speaks  of  having  already  *  paid  con- 
siderable attention  to  divinity,'  and  of  expecting,  *  in  another 
year,  to  commence  preaching,  if  he  should  feel  competent  to 
such  an  undertaking.' 

"  Portland,  July  25,  1805. 
"My  dear  Parents, 

"  This  day,  which  completes  my  twenty-second  year,  re- 
news the  remembrance  of  the  numerous  claims  your  contin- 
ued care  and  kindness  have  on  my  gratitude  and  affection. 
To  you,  next  to  my  heavenly  Father,  I  owe  that  I  exist,  that 
I  am  in  a  situation  to  support  myself,  and,  what  is  a  still 
greater  obligation,  to  your  admonitions  and  instructions  I  am 
indebted  for  all  the  moral  and  religious  impressions  which  are 
imprinted  in  my  mind,  and  which,  I  hope,  under  God,  will 
give  me  reason  to  love  and  bless  you  through  eternity.  How 
can  I  feel  sufficient  gratitude  to  the  Giver  of  all  good  for 
blessing  me  with  such  parents  !  and  how  can  I  thank  you 
sufficiently  for  all  the  kindness  you  have  lavished  upon  me,  as 
yet  without  return  !  But  it  shall  be  the  study  of  my  life  to 
show,  that  I  am  not  utterly  devoid  of  every  sentiment  of  grat- 
itude and  duty.  Pardon  me,  my  dearest  parents,  for  all  the 
pain,  the  trouble,  and  anxiety  I  have  given  you,  and  believe 
me  while  I  promise  never  knowingly  to  be  guilty  of  any  thing 
to  increase  the  uneasiness  I  have  already  occasioned  you.  I 
consider  it  as  one  of  my  greatest  blessings,  that  I  am  now  in 
a  situation  which  prevents  my  being  a  charge  to  you,  and 
which,  besides,  might  enable  me,  in  case  of  misfortune,  to 
repay  some  small  part  of  the  kindness  I  have  received.  I, 
with  all  I  do  or  may  possess,  am  your  property,  for  you  alone 
put  me  in  a  situation  to  obtain  it.  And  if  there  be  any  thing, 
(as  I  doubt  not  there  is,)  which  would  contribute  to  your  hap- 
piness, in  my  power  to  procure  for  you,  I  most  earnestly  en- 
treat you  to  let  me  know  it ;  and  if  I  do  not,  with  the  utmost 
pleasure,  comply,  cast  me  off  as  an  ungrateful  wretch,  utterly 
unworthy  of  your  kindness  and  affection." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  35 

Mr.  Payson  made  a  public  profession  of  religion  September 
1,  1805.  He  connected  himself  originally  with  the  church  in 
Rindge,  under  the  pastoral  care  of  his  father,  while  on  a  visit 
to  his  parents  during  one  of  his  quarterly  vacations.  Of  his 
exercises  in  the  near  prospect  of  this  solemn  act,  not  a  memo- 
rial remains.  The  record  of  them  was  probably  destroyed  by 
himself,  as  there  is  a  hiatus  in  his  diary  from  about  a  month 
previous  to  this  event  till  the  19th  of  January  following.  It 
is  not  an  omission,  but  an  obvious  mutilation.  The  only 
direct  allusion  to  this  public  dedication  of  himself  to  God  is 
in  a  letter  to  his  mother,  written  a  short  time  afterwards,  in 
which  he  says — "As  yet  I  have  no  reason  to  repent  of  the  step 
I  took  while  at  home.  On  the  contrary,  I  esteem  it  a  great 
blessing  that  no  obstacles  prevented  it."  He  adds,  "  I  have 
felt  wondrous  brave  and  resolute  since  my  return  ;  but  I  re- 
joice with  trembling.  If  I  know  any  thing  of  myself,  I  shall 
need  pretty  severe  discipline  through  life ;  and  I  often  shrink 
at  the  thought  of  the  conflicts  that  await  me,  but  am  encour- 
aged by  the  promise  that  my  strength  shall  be  equal  to  my 
day."  Never  were  apprehensions  and  hopes  more  signally 
realized.  He  who  "  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb," 
however,  reserved  the  bitterest  trials  for  a  confirmed  state  of 
religious  experience,  mercifully  indulging  his  servant  with  the 
light  of  his  countenance,  and  a  peaceful  and  happy  progress 
in  his  pilgrimage,  in  its  earliest  stages.  Oct.  6th,  he  writes — 
"  I  know  it  will  add  to  your  happiness,  my  dear  mother,  to 
hear  that  I  possess  a  large  quantity  of  that  desirable  commo- 
dity. Since  my  return  from  Rindge,  bating  a  few  disagreea- 
ble days  after  parting  with  my  friends,  I  have  hardly  known 
one  unhappy  moment.  The  doubts  which  formerly  obscurei 
my  mind  are  dissipated,  and  I  have  enjoyed,  and  do  still  enjoy, 
mental  peace,  and,  at  times,  happiness  inexpressible.  When 
I  am  thus  happy,  it  renders  me  so  benevolent  that  I  want  to 
make  every  one  partake  of  it,  and  can  hardly  forbear  preach- 
ing to  every  man  I  see.  At  the  same  time,  the  thought  of 
what  I  deserve,  compared  with  what  I  enjoy,  humbles  me  to 
the  dust ;  and  the  lower  I  get,  the  more  happy  do  I  feel ;  and 
then  I  am  so  full  of  gratitude  and  love,  I  can  hardly  support 
it.  My  only  source  of  unhappiness,  at  such  times,  is  the  moral 
certainty  that  I  shall  again  offend  that  God  who  is  so  infinite- 
ly, so  condescendingly  kind.  This,  indeed,  seems  impossible 
at  the  time  ;  it  then  seems  that  worldly  objects  cannot  possi- 
bly again  acquire  an  undue  influence  over  my  mind.  **** 
To  think  that  I  shall  again  become  cold  and  inanimate,  that 
I  shall  again  offend  and  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  perhaps 


n^ 

m 


i 


36  MEMOIR  OF 

be  left  openly  to  dishonor  the  holy  name  by  which  I  am  called 
— my  dear  mother,  how  distressing  !" 

"  October  29. 

"  These  worldly  comforts  are  nothing  to  the  serenity 

and  peace  of  mind  with  which  I  am  favored,  and  the  happi- 
ness arising  from  love,  gratitude,  and  confidence.  Even  con- 
trition and  remorse  for  having  slighted  so  long  such  infinite 
and  condescending  mercy,  is  not  without  a  pleasing  kind  of 
pain.  But  I  know  this  state  of  things  is  too  good  to  continue 
long ;  and  I  hope  I  shall  be  enabled  to  take  up  with  a  much 
smaller  number  of  the  comforts  of  life  without  murmuring." 

In  a  letter,  dated  November  11th,  he  says,  "  The  happiness 
I  mentioned  in  my  last,  and  in  which  you  so  kindly  partici- 
pate, I  still  enjoy,  though  diminished,  in  some  degree,  by  an 
examination  I  have  been  making  respecting  some  important 
but  perplexing  truths." 

Some  weeks  after  this  he  wrote — "  I  did  not  intend  to  say 
another  word  about  my  feelings  ;  but  I  must,  or  else  cease 
writing.  I  am  so  happy,  that  I  cannot  possibly  think  nor 
write  of  any  thing  else.  Such  a  glorious,  beautiful,  consis- 
tent scheme  for  the  redemption  of  such  miserable  wretches  ! — 
such  infinite  love  and  goodness,  joined  with  such  wisdom  ! — 
I  would,  if  possible,  raise  my  voice  so  that  the  whole  universe, 
to  its  remotest  bounds,  might  hear  me,  if  any  language  could 
be  found  worthy  of  such  a  subject.  How  transporting,  and 
yet  how  humiliating,  are  the  displays  of  divine  goodness,  which, 
at  some  favored  moments,  we  feel !  what  happiness  in  hum- 
bling ourselves  in  the  dust,  and  confessing  our  sins  and  un- 
worthiness  !" 

A  solicitude  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  others,  which  is 
among  the  early  fruits  of  experimental  religion,  and  one  of 
the  most  pleasing  evidences  of  its  existence,  was,  in  Mr.  Pay- 
son,  coeval  with  his  profession  of  the  faith  and  hope  of  the 
gospel.  Of  this  his  pupils,  as  was  to  be  expected,  were  always 
the  most  interesting  objects. — September  20th,  he  writes — 
**  Last  Saturday,  I  gave  my  scholars  six  questions  in  the  cat- 
echism, and  a  hymn  to  commit  to  memory  on  the  Sabbath  ; 
and,  on  Monday  morning,  after  hearing  them  recite,  I  lectur- 
ed them  on  the  subjects  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour. 
They  paid  strict  attention.  It  is,  however,  discouraging  to 
attempt  any  thing  of  this  kind,  and  a  most  lively  faith  alone 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  37 

can  make  it  otherwise.  Is  it  not  astonishing,  that  those  who 
have  a  just  sense  of  the  importance  of  religion  are  not  more 
earnest  in  recommending  it  to  others  ?  One  would  suppose 
they  could  hardly  refrain  from  preaching  to  them  in  the 
streets.  The  reason  we  do  not  is,  we  have  not  a  just  sense 
of  it." 

"  October  29. 
"  I  hope  your  narrative — for  which  I  thank  you — will  have 
a  tendency  to  stir  me  up.  I  feel  a  strong  and  abiding  impres- 
sion on  my  mind,  that  all  the  good  I  enjoy  my  friends  were 
stirred  up  to  pray  for  ;  and  I  hope  I  and  my  scholars  shall 
reap  the  advantage  of  them  in  this  case.  When  I  look  at 
them,  and  reflect  how  many  dangers  they  are  exposed  to,  v/hat 
bad  examples  even  the  parents  of  many  set  them,  and  how 
few  hear  any  thing  like  religious  instruction,  I  cannot  express 
my  feelings.  Lately  I  feel  a  great  flow  of  words  v/hen  ad- 
dressing them  ;  however,  it  is  just  like  speaking  to  dry  bones, 
unless  a  divine  blessing  assist. — If  I  could  be  the  means  of 
doing  good  only  to  one,  what  transport !  Thank  God,  it  does 
not  depend  on  the  means,  but  on  himself;  otherwise  I  should 
give  up  in  despair." 

^'  Januarij  15,  1806. 

"  This  morning  I  was  highly  favored  in  speaking  to  my 
scholars.  I  spoke  nearly  three  quarters  of  an  hour  with  some 
earnestness,  though  not  so  much  as  I  could  have  wished. 
Except  once,  I  have  felt  a  very  considerable  share  of  freedom 
on  these  occasions.  Your  mentioning  that  you  were  enabled 
to  pray  for  a  blessing  on  these  poor  endeavors  has  been  a  ^ 
great  encouragement  to  me.  They  are  attentive,  and  a  very|i| 
perceptible  difference  has  taken  place  in  their  attention  to  - 
their  studies.  I  hope  that,  sooner  or  later,  they  will  become 
attentive  to  more  important  pursuits.  I  am  almost  afraid  to 
write  even  to  you,  my  dear  mother,  on  these  subjects,  lest  I 
should  make  some  gross  blunder,  through  my  ignorance  and 
inexperience.  I  have  often  observed,  that  persons  who  begin 
to  read  late  in  life  are  apt  to  think  every  thing  they  meet  with 
in  books  as  new  to  others  as  it  is  to  them,  and  so  make  them- 
selves ridiculous  by  retailing,  as  novelty,  what  every  one  knew 
before.  In  like  manner,  I  am  somewhat  apprehensive  of  ap- 
pearing to  you,  in  mentioning  my  own  feelings,  as  one  who  is 
detailing  last  year's  news ;  for  your  ideas  and  feelings  must 
be  so  far  beyond  mine,  that  it  wifl  require  some  patience  to 
read  my  relations.  However,  I  trust  to  your  goodness,  and 
hope  you  will  remember,  that  many  things,  which  are  now 
4 


38  MEMOIR  OF 

plain  and  common,  were  once  dark  and  unusual  to  you.  I 
am  pursuing  my  studies  pretty  much  at  random,  having  no 
person  to  advise  with." 

This  anxiety  for  the  souls  of  his  fellow-creatures,  marked 
liis  intercourse  with  associates  of  the  same  standing  with  him- 
self One  of  his  valued  companions  in  literary  pursuits  has 
furnished  the  following  extracts  : — 

''  December  2,  1805. 
"  There  is  no  worldly  blessing  that  is  not  heightened  by 
religion,  but  none  more  so  than  friendship,  whether  it  be  be- 
tween relatives  by  consanguinity,  or  those  who  are  joined  in 
marriage,  or  other  friends.  The  idea  of  parting  must  imbit- 
tcr  the  pleasure  of  the  man  of  the  world  ;  but  the  Christian, 
if  he  has  chosen  his  friends  aright,  may  hope  to  enjoy  their 
society  with  more  pleasure  hereafter  than  he  can  now.  For 
this  reason  I  never  should  choose  a  partner  for  life,  whom  I 
could  not  hope  to  meet  beyond  the  tomb." 

"  December  9. 

"  You  ascribe,  my  friend,  too  much  to  age  and  a  cultivated 
mind,  when  you  speak  of  them  as  inconsistent  with  a  *  stupid 
blindness  respecting  futurity.'  Sad  experience  shows  that 
age  the  most  mature,  and  minds  the  most  cultivated,  are  too 
often  under  the  operation  of  such  a  blindness.  Who,  among 
the  walks  of  science,  ambition,  avarice,  or  pleasure,  is  not 
blind  to  his  own  mortality  ?  Who  is  there  that  sees,  that  ev- 
ery hour  of  his  life  he  infringes  that  law  which  says — ^  cursed 
^s  every  one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  WTitten  therein 
to  do  them  V  Who  sees  that  his  brittle  thread  of  life  is  all 
on  which  he  hangs  over  endless  misery,  and  that,  if  any  one 
of  the  many  dangers  to  which  he  is  exposed  should  be  per- 
mitted to  crush  him,  he  would,  in  a  moment,  be  the  subject 
of  despair?  No  age,  no  improvement  of  the  mind,  will  make 
us  see  these  truths  to  be  such.  We  may  assent  to  them,  but 
our  conduct  shows  we  do  not  believe  them.  You  do  not  yet, 
my  friend,  know  the  difficulty  of  the  task.  Consider,  first, 
iliat  the  divine  law  extends  to  the  thoughts,  and  that  it  makes 
no  allowance  for  human  infirmity,  and  then  shut  yourself  up 
alone,  out  of  the  reach  of  temptation,  and  try  for  one  hour  to 
be  innocent,  and  you  will  find,  by  the  numberless  foolish 
thoughts  and  vicious  propensities  arising  in  your  mind,  that  it 
is  no  easy  thing  to  be  negatively  good.  When,  in  addition  to 
this,  you  consider  that  sins  of  omission  are  equally  fatal  with 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  39 

sins  of  commission,  you  must  certainly,  if  you  know  any  thing 
of  your  own  heart,  give  up  in  despair.  I  write  this  not  to 
discourage  you,  but  to  urge  the  immediate  commencement  of 
a  work  so  difficult  and  so  important ;  but  still  more  to  induce 
you  to  apply  to  One  who  can  give  you  strength,  and  will  give 
it,  if  asked  for  in  a  full  conviction  of  your  own  weakness. 
You  know  nothing  of  your  own  heart ;  and,  though  you  may 
not  assent  to  this  now,  the  time,  I  hope  and  trust,  will  come, 
when  you  will  assent  to  it.  You  may  not  now  believe  that 
naturally,  like  all  others,  you  are  an  enemy  to  God  and  his 
goodness — but  you  must  assent  to  it." 

''  May  8. 

"  Take  my  word  for  it,  there  is  inexpressibly  more  enjoy- 
ment in  religion,  in  this  life,  than  the  most  happy  sinner  since 
creation  ever  had  to  boast  of  It  appears  gloomy  at  a  dis- 
tance, but,  the  nearer  it  approaches,  the  more  delightful  it 
becomes.  You  know  that  I  am  of  a  social  turn,  that  I  enjoy, 
or  did  enjoy,  amusements  about  as  well  as  others  did,  and  that 
I  have  no  particular  reason  for  flying  from  them.  You  know, 
too,  that  I  love  you,  and  would  promote  your  interest  to  the 
extent  of  my  powers.  You  may  then  consider  me,  if  you  are 
so  disposed,  an  impartial  witness  that  the  ways  of  Wisdom  are 
ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  her  paths  peace.  I  hope  and 
believe  that  your  own  feelings  may  attest  the  truth  of  my  tes- 
timony. That  you  may  know  more  and  more  of  it,  is  the 
sincere  prayer  of  your  friend." 

"  I  dare  pledge  any  thing  most  dear  to  me,  that,  if  you  per- 
sist in  the  diligent  use  of  the  means  suggested,  you  shall  not 
long  use  them  in  vain.  But,  what  is  infinitely  more  to  the 
purpose,  you  have  the  oath  of  him  who  cannot  lie,  on  which 
to  ground  your  hopes.  You  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  ask  for 
faith ;  to  come,  as  the  leper  did  to  our  Saviour  while  on  earth, 
and  throw  yourself  at  his  feet  with  '  Lord,  if  thou  wilt,  thou 
canst  make  me  clean  ;'  and  rest  assured  that  he  will  put  forth 
his  hand  and  say — '  I  will ;  be  thou  clean.'  He  is  still  as 
able  and  as  willing,  ^  ^  *  *  ^  \^q  grant  every  request 
of  this  nature  as  he  was  on  earth.  If  you  really  feel  yourself 
a  sinner,  and  that  you  have  no  power  to  save  yourself,  and 
are  willing  to  accept  of  him  as  a  Saviour,  he  is  ready  to  receive 
you.  Do  not  wait,  before  you  accept  his  offers,  to  render 
yourself  worthy  of  his  favor  by  going  about  to  establish  a 
righteousness  of  your  own.  He  will  not  be  a  half  Saviour. 
He  will  do  all  or  nothing.     If  you  mean  to  come  to  him,  you 


40  MEMOIR  OF 

must  come  as  a  helpless  sinner ;  not  as  the  Pharisee,  with  a 
list  of  virtuous  deeds  performed,  but  as  the  publican,  with — 
'  Lord,  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner.'  " 

Scarcely  two  months  had  elapsed  from  the  time  he  made  a 
public  profession  of  religion,  before  Mr.  Pay  son  felt  his  mind 
embarrassed  in  relation  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible  as  un- 
derstood by  Calvinists.  The  first  intimation  of  this  perplexity 
is  in  the  following  words  : — 

^'  I  have  lately  read  Cole's  Discourses.  It  is  a  very  com- 
fortable doctrine  for  the  elect,  but  not  so  for  the  sinner.  My 
feelings  say  it  is  true,  but  reason  wants  to  put  in  an  oar.  It 
is  at  once  encouraging  and  discouraging  to  ministers." 

He  afterwards  expresses  himself  more  fully  on  this  subject, 
and  in  a  manner  which  shows  that  he  did  not  take  his  religion 
upon  trust,  but  that  his  subsequent  firm  adherence  to  the  doc- 
trines of  grace  was  the  result  of  impartial  examination. 

"  I  mentioned  in  a  former  letter,  that  I  had  been  reading 
Cole.  Since  that  I  have  studied,  with  considerable  attention, 
Edwards  on  the  Will,  and  his  treatise  on  Original  Sin.  I 
know  not  what  to  do.  On  one  hand,  the  arguments  in  favor 
of  Calvinism  are  strong ;  and,  what  is  more  to  the  point,  I 
feel  that  most  of  them  must  be  true  ;  and  yet  there  are  diflii- 
culties,  strong  difficulties,  *****  =^  in  the  way. 
I  care  very  little  about  them,  as  it  concerns  myself;  but  to 
think  that  so  many  pf  mankind  must  be  miserable,  strikes  me 
with  disagreeable  feelings.  I  wonder  not  that  the  unregener- 
ate  are  so  bitterly  opposed  to  these  doctrines  and  their  profess- 
ors, nor  that  they  appear  to  them  as  the  effects  of  blindness 
and  superstition.  Poor  Dr.  M.  is  sadly  abused  on  this  account, 
and  the  most  consummate  scoundrel  in  existence  could  not 
merit  worse  epithets  than  the  clergy  of  *  *  *  ^  *  *  heap  on 
him.  I  find,  hov/ever,  that  I  have  much  clearer  views  of  the 
grand  scheme  of  redemption  than  I  had  ;  and,  as  it  relates  to 
myself,  it  appears  a  miracle  of  love  and  mercy  for  which  I 
never  can  feel,  comparatively  speaking,  any  gratitude.  But, 
with  respect  to  others,  it  does  not  appear  altogether  so  excel- 
lent. I  cannot,  however,  complain  of  any  doubts  of  the  truth 
of  these  points,  more  than  I  have  of  the  truth  of  the  Bible  ; 
but  I  cannot  reconcile  them.  I  should  make  poor  work  at 
preaching  in  my  present  state  of  mind,  for  I  could  neither  ad- 
vance such  doctrines  not  let  them  alone.    Thus  I  am  perplex- 


EDWARD  PAYSOIN.  41 

ed.  I  feel  that  they  are  true,  yet  seem  to  know  it  is  impossi- 
ble they  should  be  so.  I  never  would  meddle  with  them,  were 
I  not,  in  some  measure,  obliged  to  by  the  profession  I  have 
chosen.  I  almost  long  for  death,  that  the  apparent  contradic- 
tions may  be  reconciled." 

There  were  practical  questions,  also,  scarcely  less  embar- 
rassing to  his  mind,  and  which  it  required  no  small  skill  in 
Christian  casuistry  to  determine.  On  account  of  his  situation, 
as  well  as  the  inexhaustible  fund  of  entertainment  which  he 
could  carry  into  company,  he  was  frequently  solicited  to  make 
one  of  a  visiting  party,  and  to  mingle  in  society  on  various  oc- 
casions. The  nature  of  the  trials  hence  arising,  as  well  "tS 
their  issue,  will  be  seen  from  a  few  extracts  : — 

"  After  long  doubting  the  propriety,  and  even  the  lawfulness, 
of  mixing  at  all  in  society,  where  duty  does  not  call,  and  after 
smarting  a  number  of  times  for  indulging  myself  in  it, — more, 
however,  through  fear  of  offending,  than  for  any  pleasure  I  find 
in  it, — I  am  at  length  brought  to  renounce  it  entirely  ;  and  it 
is  not  a  needless  scrupulosity.  It  does  appear  a  duty  to  shun 
all  communication  with  the  world,  when  there  is  no  well- 
grounded  reason  to  hope  to  do  good.  There  are,  to  be  sure, 
many  very  plausible  reasons,  but  I  doubt  whether  they  will 
bear  the  test  of  scripture.'' 

To  one  who  urged  him  to  go  into  society  and  frequent  pub- 
lic amusements,  he  wrote  : — 

"  Can  a  man  walk  on  pitch,  and  his  feet  not  be  defiled  ? 
Can  a  man  take  coals  of  fire  in  his  bosom,  and  his  clothes  not 
be  burned  ?  If  he  can,  he  may  then  mix  freely  with  the  world, 
and  not  be  contaminated.  But  I  am  not  the  one  v/ho  can  do 
it.  I  cannot  think  it  proper  or  expedient  for  a  Christian  to  go 
into  any  company,  unless  necessity  calls,  where  he  may,  per- 
haps, hear  the  name  he  loves  and  reverences  blasphemed,  or  at 
least  profaned, — where  that  book,  which  he  esteems  the  word 
of  God,  will,  if  mentioned,  be  alluded  to  only  to  waken 
laughter  or  '  adorn  a  tale,' — where  the  laws  of  good  breeding 
are  almost  the  only  laws  which  may  not  be  broken  with  impu- 
nity,— and  where  every  thing  he  hears  or  sees  has  a  strong  ten- 
dency to  extinguish  the  glow  of  devotion,  and  entirely  banish 
seriousness.  I  speak  only  for  myself  Others  may  experience 
no  bad  effects  ;  but,  for  myself,  when  I  go  into  company,  if  it 
is  pleasant  and  agreeable,  it  has  a  tendency  only  to  fix  my 
4  * 


42  MEMOIR  OF 

thoughts  on  earth,  from  which  it  is  my  duty  and  my  desire  to 
turn  them, — to  give  me  a  distaste  for  serious  duties,  especially 
prayer  and  meditation,  and  to  render  me  desirous  of  the  ap- 
plause and  approbation  of  those  with  whom  I  associate.  I 
cannot  avoid  feeling  some  desire  for  its  friendship  ;  and  this 
friendship,  the  apostle  assures  us,  and  my  own  experience  feel- 
ingly convinces  me,  is  enmity  with  God." 

— "  I  have  at  length  obtained  satisfaction  respecting  my 
doubts  about  society  ;  not,  however,  till  I  was  brought  to  give 
it  up.  After  I  had  done  so,  it  appeared  so  plain  and  proper, 
that  I  wondered  how  a  doubt  could  ever  have  arisen  on  this 
subject.  Now,  I  shall  hardly  see  a  person  in  a  week,  except 
our  own  family  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  of  being  much  happier 
for  it.  Two  or  three  plain  rules  I  find  of  wonderful  service 
in  deciding  all  difficult  cases.  One  is,  to  do  nothing  of  which 
I  doubt  in  any  degree  the  lawfulness  ;  the  second,  to  consider 
every  thing  as  unlawful  which  indisposes  me  for  prayer^  and 
interrupts  comraunion  with  God;  and  the  third  is,  never  to  go 
into  any  company,  business,  or  situation,  in  which  I  cannot 
conscientiously  ask  and  expect  the  divine  presence.  By  the 
help  of  these  three  rules,  I  settle  all  my  doubts  in  a  trice,  and 
find  that  many  things  I  have  hitherto  indulged  in,  are,  if  not 
utterly  unlawful,  at  least  inexpedient,  and  I  can  renounce 
them  without  many  sighs." 

Referring  to  the  dangers  inseparable  from  worldly  society, 
he  incidentally  mentions  one  defence  against  their  influence, 
which  was  only  imaginary  : — "  I  consider  it  a  blessing,  or  en- 
deavor to  do  so,  that  I  do  not  possess  those  talents  for  shining 
in  company,  which  are  so  apt  to  lead  their  possessors  into  too 
great  a  fondness  for  gay  and  brilliant  society.  Yet,  I  confess, 
though  I  am  sensible  they  would  prove  a  snare  to  me,  I  am 
sometimes  tempted  to  repine  at  the  want  of  them  ;  and  the 
grant  of  all  my  wishes  would  soon  render  me  the  most  miser- 
able of  beings."  The  circumstances  in  which  this  Vv'as  written 
preclude  all  suspicion  of  its  being  the  language  of  affectation. 

His  determination  to  exclude  himself  from  company  was 
very  conscientiously  formed  ;  and,  so  far  was  he  from  making 
his  own  practice  a  law  for  others  in  this  matter,  he  expressly 
assigns  his  "weakness  and  inexperience"  as  the  reason  why 
he  "  could  not  indulge  in  society  without  detriment."  Be- 
sides, situated  as  he  was,  he  saw  "  no  medium  between  the 
life  of  a  hermit  and  that  of  a  votary  of  pleasure."  If  such 
were  the  alternative,  his  decision  is  to  be  approved.     It  re- 


EDWARD  TAYSON.  43 

suited  from  a  right  application  of  his  *^  three  plain  rules,"  which 
are  certainly  scriptural,  and  worthy  of  universal  adoption.  This 
course  was  not  the  fruit  of  misanthropic  feelings ;  for  no  man 
was  more  susceptible  of  the  delights  of  friendship,  or  more 
highly  appreciated  its  benefits.;  but  how  "  can  two  walk  to- 
gether, except  they  be  agreed  V  His  heart  now  sighed  for 
friendships  founded  on  a  religious  basis.  He  speaks  of  "  a 
friend,  with  whom  he  could  converse  on  religious  subjects,  as 
having  long  been  a  desideratum  ;"  and  when  he  thought  he 
had  found  such  a  one  among  his  former  beloved  associates,  he 
expresses  the  most  ardent  gratitude  to  the  Giver  of  every  good 
gift.  "  I  feel  a  satisfaction,"  he  writes,  "  on  this  discovery, 
similar  to  what  I  should  feel  at  meeting  a  townsman  in  a  des- 
ert island.  You,  who  live  in  the  midst  of  Christian  friends, 
can  hardly  conceive  of  it.  Associates  are  pleasant  in  any  pur- 
suit, but  especially  so  in  this.  Two  are  better  than  one.  We 
shall  together  be  better  able  to  stand  our  ground  against  the 
assaults  of  ridicule  and  reproach ;  and  may  animate  and  en- 
courage each  other  in  our  course." 

Having,  in  a  letter  to  his  mother,  expressed  himself  as  ready 
to  give  almost  any  thing  he  possessed  for  an  "  experienced 
friend,"  he  anticipates  her  reply — "  You  will  say,  perhaps, 
the  Bible  is  a  friend,  which,  if  duly  consulted,  would  super- 
sede the  necessity  of  any  other  adviser.  It  may  be  so  ;  but 
we  are  apt  to  be  bad  commentators,  v»^here  we  are  concerned 
ourselves.  A  friend  can  judge  of  our  concerns,  and  give  us 
better  counsel,  than,  perhaps,  he  would  give  himself.  We  are 
but  poor  casuists  in  our  own  affairs." 

Some  miscellaneous  extracts  vv^ill  now  be  given. 

"  December  8,  1805. 

^'  Though  I  have  experienced  many  and  great  comforts,  yet 
I  am  at  times  almost  discouraged.  My  heart  seems  to  be  a 
soil  so  bad,  that  all  labor  is  thrown  away  upon  it ;  for,  instead 
of  grov/ing  better,  it  grows  worse.  What  a  w^earisome  task, 
or  rather  conflict,  it  is,  to  be  always  fighting  with  an  enemy, 
whom  no  defeats  can  weaken  or  tire.  I  am  afraid,  that  many 
of  my  desires  to  be  delivered  from  his  pov/er  proceed  rather 
from  a  sinful  impatience,  than  a  better  source.  But  it  is  most 
distressing,  when  favored  with  manifestations  of  a  Saviour's 
love,  to  think  we  shall  again  sin  against  and  grieve  him ;  es- 
pecially, in  the  sacrament  of  the  supper,  the  idea  that  I  shall 
certainly  go  away  and  offend  him,  who  is  there  set  forth  cru- 
cified before  me,  imbitters  all  my  happiness." 


44  MEMOIR  OF 

"  December  25. 
^'  My  dear  Sister, 

"  I  am  not  very  prone  to  indulge  the  idea,  that  my  happi- 
ness can  depend  on  change  of  place ;  but  when  such  fancies 
do  gain  admittance,  home  is  al;|i?ays  the  scene  of  my  imagina- 
ry bliss.  It  is,  however,  a  remedy  to  consider,  that,  however 
we  may  be  separated  from  our  friends  in  this  world,  yet,  if  we 
choose  them  aright,  we  may  indulge  the  hope  of  spending  an 
eternity  together  in  the  next. 

"  I  have  of  late  taken  some  pleasure  in  recollecting  the  pil- 
grimages of  our  old  friend  Bunyan,  and  see  a  striking  proprie- 
ty in  many  parts  of  them,  which  I  did  not  then  rightly  under- 
stand. For  some  time  past  I  have  been  with  Tender  Con- 
science in  the  caves  of  Good  Resolution  and  Contemplation, 
and,  like  him,  fell  into  the  clutches  of  Spiritual  Pride.  It  is 
astonishing,  and  what  nothing  but  sad  experience  could  make 
us  believe,  that  Satan  and  a  corrupt  heart  should  have  the  art 
of  extracting  the  most  dangerous  poison  from  those  things 
which  apparently  would,  and  certainly  ought  to,  have  the  most 
beneficial  effects.  If  I  do  not,  after  all,  fall  into  the  hands  of 
old  Carnal  Security,  I  shall  have  reason  to  be  thankful. 
There  is  such  a  fascination  in  the  magic  circle  of  worldly 
pleasures  and  pursuits,  as  can  hardly  be  conceived  without 
experience  ;  and  I  am  astonished  and  vexed,  to  find  its  influ- 
ence continually  thwarting  and  hindering  me.  And  so  many 
plausible  excuses  are  perpetually  suggesting  themselves,  that 
compliance  can  hardly  be  avoided." 

"  January  25. 
''My  dear  Mother. 

"  In  one  of  the  classics,  which  form  part  of  my  daily  occu- 
pation, there  is  an  account  of  a  tyrant,  who  used  to  torture  his 
subjects,  by  binding  them  to  dead  bodies,  and  leaving  them  to 
perish  by  an  unnatural  and  painful  death.  I  have  often 
thought  the  situation  of  a  Christian  is,  in  some  respects,  like  that 
of  these  poor  wretches.  Bound,  to  a  loathsome  body  of  sin, 
from  which  death  alone  can  free  him,  and  obliged  daily  to  ex- 
perience effects  from  it  not  much  less  painful  and  displeasing 
to  him,  than  the  stench  of  a  putrefying  carcass  was  to  those 
who  were  united  to  it,  he  must  suffer  almost  continual  torment. 
I  have  lately  felt  doubtful  how  far  a  due  resignation  to  the  di- 
vine will  obliges  us  to  submit  with  patience  to  this  most  pain- 
ful of  all  trials,  and,  since  we  know  that  perfection  is  not 
granted  to  any  in  this  world,  how  far  we  ought  to  extend  our 
prayers  and  wishes.  I  know  there  is  little  danger  of  being  too 
much  engaged  in  seeking  deliverance  from  sin ;  but  is  there 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  45 

no  danger  of  that  fretful  impatience,  which  we  are  apt  to  feel 
on  other  occasions,  gaining  admittance  under  the  appearance 
of  an  earnest  desire  for  holiness  ?  And  is  not  indolence,  and 
a  wish  to  be  freed  from  the  necessity  of  continual  watchfulness 
and  conflict,  apt  to  insinuate  itself  into  our  desires  and  peti- 
tions for  divine  assistance  ?  Sin  is  a  sly  traitor ;  and  it  is  but 
lately  I  discovered  it  in  my  bosom  ;  and  now  I  am  so  much 
afraid  of  it,  that  I  hardly  dare  ask  assistance  at  all. 

"For  this  month  past,  I  have  enjoyed  very  little  of  that  hap- 
piness which  I  once  rejoiced  in.  Yet,  blessed  be  God  !  I  am 
not  left  utterly  dead  and  stupid,  and  am  enabled  to  persevere 
in  the  use  of  means,  though  they  seldom  seem  so  productive 
of  peace  as  they  once  did.  I  hope  I  have  clearer  ideas  of  my 
strong,  amazingly  strong,  propensity  to  every  thing  that  is  evil, 
and  of  the  infinite  and  glorious  sufficiency  of  my  Saviour,  than 
I  had  while  my  joys  were  greater.  Then  I  was  ready  to  flat- 
ter myself  that  sin  was  destroyed  ;  but  now  I  find,  by  sad  ex- 
perience, it  is  not  only  alive,  but  extremely  active ;  and  had  I 
not  an  almighty  Helper,  I  should  instantly  give  up  in  despair." 

''  Portland,  Feb.  9,  1806. 
"  My  dear  Mother, 

"  For  many  reasons,  it  is  impossible  that  my  letters  should 
be  so  acceptable  at  home  as  those  I  receive  from  home  are  to 
me.  You  have  friends  there,  to  divide  your  attention,  to  par- 
ticipate in  your  care,  and  to  share  and  increase  your  pleasures. 
But  I  am  alone.  All  my  affections  must  centre  at  home,  and, 
consequently,  I  must  feel  a  greater  desire  to  hear  from  home, 
and  to  receive  assurances  that  I  am  not  forgotten,  than  my 
friends  can  possibly  have,  to  hear  from  me. 

"  I  find  nobody,  except  at  times,  to  whom  I  can  communi- 
cate my  joys,  hopes,  desires,  and  fears ;  nobody  who  can  par- 
ticipate my  pleasures  or  sympathize  in  my  griefs.  It  is,  per- 
haps, best  for  me  that  it  should  be  so ;  but  it  is  very  unpleas- 
ant. Most  of  my  acquaintance  consider  me,  as  near  as  I  can 
guess,  but  a  kind  of  hypocrite,  who  must,  as  a  student  in  di- 
vinity, preserve  a  decent  exterior,  in  order  to  be  respected. 
However,  it  is  some  consolation,  that  they  think  the  same  of 
every  one  else.  Their  opinion  is  of  very  trifling  consequence. 
One  thing  only  I  wish  not  to  be  thought,  and  that  is,  what  is 
commonly  called  a  rational  Christian,  an  epithet  which  is  very 
frequently  bestowed  on  young  candidates,  and  which  is  almost 
synonymous  with  no  Christian.  Liberal  divines  are  pretty 
much  of  the  same  character." 


46  MEMOIR  OF 

''  Portland,  April  I,  1806. 
^'  My  dear  Mother, 

**  I  am  now  entirely  alone,  and,  except  a  visit  once  a  fortnight 
from  Mr.  R.,  I  see  no  face  within  my  chamber  from  one  week 
to  another.  It  is  sometimes  unpleasant,  but,  I  believe,  very 
profitable,  to  be  debarred  from  society.  I  am  so  prone  to  trust 
to  broken  cisterns,  that  nothing,  but  their  being  out  of  my 
reach,  can  restrain  me.  When  I  come  home  from  school, 
weary  and  dull,  if  I  had  any  earthly  friends  at  hand,  I  should 
certainly  apply  to  them  for  relief;  but,  not  having  any,  I  am 
constrained  to  go  where  I  am  much  more  sure  of  finding  it.  I 
begin  to  find,  that  the  smiles  with  which  my  early  infancy  was 
supported,  are  changing  for  the  less  agreeable,  but  certainly 
not  less  needful,  discipline  of  education;  and  O  what  severe 
discipline,  and  how  much  of  it,  shall  I  require  !  I  see  already, 
that  hard  fare  and  hard  labor  will  be  necessary  to  preserve  me 
from  *  waxing  fat  and  kicking;'  and  if  it  has  this  effect,  I  shall 
welcome  it  with  pleasure.  It  seems  to  me  one  of  the  worst  of 
the  hellish  offspring  of  fallen  nature,  that  it  should  have  such  a 
tendency  to  pride,  and  above  all,  spiritual  pride.  How  many  ar- 
tifices does  it  c(mtirive  to  hide  itself !  If,  at  any  time,  I  am  favor- 
ed with  clearer  discoveries  of  my  natural  and  acquired  depravity 
and  hatefulness  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  am  enabled  to  mourn 
over  it,  in  comes  Spiritual  Pride,  with — "  Ay,  this  is  something 
like  !  this  is  holy  mourning  for  sin  ;  this  is  true  humility.'* 
If  I  happen  to  detect  and  spurn  at  these  thoughts,  immediate- 
ly he  changes  his  battery,  and  begins — "  Another  person  would 
have  indulged  those  feelings,  and  imagined  he  was  really 
humble,  but  you  know  better  ;  you  can  detect  and  banish  pride 
at  once,  as  you  ought  to  do."  Thus  this  hateful  enemy  con- 
tinually harasses  me.  What  a  proof  that  the  heart  is  the  na- 
tive soil  of  pride,  when  it  thus  contrives  to  gather  strength 
from  those  very  exercises  which  one  would  think  must  destroy 
it  utterly ! 

"  My  other  chief  besetting  sin,  which  will  cut  out  abundance 
of  work  for  me,  is  fondness  for  applause.  When  I  sit  down  to 
write,  this  demon  is  immediately  in  the  way,  prompting  to 
seek  for  such  observations  as  will  be  admired,  rather  than 
such  as  will  be  felt,  and  have  a  tendency  to  do  good.  My 
proneness  to  these  two  evils,  which  I  have  mentioned,  makes 
me  think  I  shall  have  but  little  sensible  comfort  in  this  world, 
and  that  I  shall  be  tried  by  m^ny  and  grievous  afflictions,  in 
order  to  keep  me  humble  and  dependant.  However,  it  is  of 
no  consequence.  I  know  my  great  Physician  is  both  able 
9.nd  willing  to  cure  me,  and  I  leave  the  manner  to  him  ;  trust- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  47 

ing  he  will  enable  me  to  take  whatever  he  prescribes,  and 

bless  the  prescription." 

''  Portland,  June  11,  1806. 
''My  dear  Mother, 

"  After  I  have  told  you  that  I  have  been  unwell  some  time 
past,  and  that  I  am  now  as  well  as  usual,  my  stock  of  informa- 
tion is  exhausted — unless,  indeed,  I  still  make  myself  the  sub- 
ject ;  and,  for  want  of  a  better,  I  must.  Owing  partly,  I  be- 
lieve, to  my  ill  health,  I  have  been  much  afflicted  with  doubt, 
whether  it  is  not  my  duty  to  give  up  preaching  at  all.  I  want, 
at  times,  to  get  as  far  back  into  the  country  as  possible,  and, 
on  a  little  farm,  lead  a  life  as  much  remote  from  observation  as 
circumstances  will  allow.  It  seems  to  me  a  little  remarkable, 
that,  while  I  am  harassed  \\\i\\  doubts  and  perplexities  about 
every  thing  else,  I  feel  none,  or  comparatively  none,  about 
my  own  state.  If  at  any  time  such  doubts  intruded,  they 
were  banished  by  that  text,  "  I  am  he  that  blotteth  out  thy 
transgressions,  for  mine  cAvn  sakeJ^  But,  lately,  the  very  ab- 
sence of  doubt  has  caused  me  to  doubt ;  for  if  I  were  a  child 
of  God,  how  should  I  be  free  from  those  doubts  which  trouble 
them  1  But  the  greatest  difficulty  of  all  is,  that  the  certainty 
which  I  almost  ever  feel  of  my  safety,  should  have  no  more 
effect  on  my  disposition  and  conduct.  This  seems  to  me 
more  unaccountable  than  any  thing  else  ;  for  even  the  devils, 
one  would  think,  might  and  would  rejoice  to  think  of  ap- 
proaching happiness. 

"  I  have,  for  some  time,  had  something  like  a  desire  to  be- 
come a  missionary.  I  have  not  mentioned  it  before,  because 
I  doubted  whether  it  would  not  be  only  a  temporary  wish.  I 
should  feel  less  backward  to  preach  to  savages,  or  white  men 
little  above  savages,  than  any  where  else.  However,  I  hope 
Providence  will,  some  way  or  other,  get  me  into  the  place 
where  I  shall  be  most  useful,  be  it  what  it  may.  I  do  not  feel 
very  solicitous  in  which  way  or  in  what  situation. 

"  I  shall  be  in  Boston  about  the  23d  of  August,  and,  after 
commencement,  set  out  for  Rindge,  should  nothing  prevent. 
At  present,  I  can  write  no  more.  The  bearer  is  booted,  whip- 
ped, chaired,  and  waiting. 

"  Present   my  most   affectionate  regards  to   pa'.     I   shall 
make  great  encroachments  on  his  time,  when  I  come  home, 
"Your  affectionate  son, 

"  E.  Payson.'^ 

A  desire  to  become  a  missionary,  in  1806,  was  a  less  dubi- 
ous proof  of  expansive  Christian  benevolence,  than  it  would  be 


48  MEMOIR  OF 

at  the  present  day.  The  obligation  of  Christians  to  send  the 
gospel  to  the  heathen  could  not  have  been  learned  from  any 
thing  which  the  American  Church  was  then  doing,  or  had 
done  for  a  long  period.  As  to  any  visible  movement,  she  ap- 
peared as  indifferent  to  the  claims  of  the  unevangelized  tribes 
of  men,  as  though  her  Redeemer  and  Lord  had  not  left  it  in 
charge,  to  "  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature."  Mr.  Pay- 
son  was  probably  ignorant  that  another  youthful  bosom  in  the 
country  panted  with  the  same  desire ;  though  it  was  about 
this  time,  if  not  in  this,  very  year — a  coincidence  which  they 
who  regard  the  works  of  the  Lord,  and  the  operation  of  his 
hands,  will  notice  with  pleasure — that  Samuel  J.  Mills  felt  the 
desire,  and  formed  the  purpose,  to  devote  his  life  to  the  service 
of  Christ  among  the  heathen — a  purpose,  however,  which 
was  known,  first  to  his  mother,  and  then  to  a  few  individuals 
only,  till  about  four  years  afterwards. 

In  the  extracts  which  have  been  inserted  from  his  letters, 
the  reader  has  discovered  his  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
subtle  workings  of  the  human  heart,  and  his  unsleeping  vigi- 
lance to  detect  and  guard  against  its  impositions.  His  self- 
knowledge,  and  the  rigid  self-inspection  which  he  habitually 
maintained,  would  appear  in  a  still  more  striking  light  from 
his  private  diary,  if  that  were  spread  before  the  public  eye. — 
Neither  friends  nor  foes  could  name  a  fault  in  him,  which  he 
had  not  detected,  and  condemned  in  terms  of  unsparing  se- 
verity. They  would  find  their  severest  judgments  anticipated ; 
and  they  would  find  too — what  the  v/orld  little  suspects  of  the 
Christian — thol  the  smallest  trespasses  were  the  cause  of 
heart-felt  lamentation  and  grief  in  those  hours  of  secret  retire- 
ment, when  no  eye  but  Jehovah's  was  witness  to  his  sorrow. 
In  his  example,  the  young  aspirant  for  fame  might  see  an  illus- 
tration of  the  wise  man's  maxim,  **  before  honor  is  humility;" 
and  that  the  surest  path  to  an  enduring  reputation  is  found  by 
"  asking  counsel  of  God,"  and  '*  acknowledging  him  in  all  our 
ways."  Faithfulness,  either  to  the  dead  or  the  living,  cannot, 
however,  require,  that  a  very  free  use  should  be  made  of  the 
record  of  what  passed  in  the  inward  sanctuary  of  his  soul — 
a  record  obviously  designed  for  his  private  use  only,  and  in 
characters  intended  to  be  illegible  by  every  eye  except  his  ow^n. 
So  much  will,  nevertheless,  be  inserted,  as  is  necessary  to 
substantiate  the  representations  in  this  narrative,  or  disclose 
important  facts  in  his  history,  which  could  be  learned  from 
no  other  source. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  49 

Extracts  from  his  Diary. 

"  Feh,  5,  1806.  For  this  fortnight  past,  I  have  enjoyed  a 
tolerable  share  of  assistance,  but  nothing  transporting.  Slow 
progress. 

"  Feh,  7.  Little  opportunity  for  prayer  in  the  morning  ; 
yet  God  was  pleased  not  wholly  to  desert  me  during  the  day, 
and,  in  the  evening,  favored  me  with  clearer  views  of  the  glo- 
rious all-sufficiency  of  my  Saviour,  and  of  my  absolute  need 
of  him,  than  I  have  before  experienced,  I  could,  in  some 
measure,  feel  that  my  deepest  humiliation  was  rank  pride,  and 
all  that  I  am  or  can  do,  is  sin.  Yet,  blessed  be  God,  I  can 
plead  the  sufferings  and  perfect  obedience  of  Jesus  Christ,  in 
whom,  though  weak  in  myself,  I  am  strong. 

"  Feh,  8.  There  is  no  vice,  of  which  I  do  not  see  the 
seeds  in  myself,  and  which  would  bear  fruit,  did  not  grace 
prevent.  Notwithstanding  this,  I  am  perpetually  pulling  the 
mote  out  of  my  brother's  eye. 

"  Feh.  9.  Was  much  favored  in  prayer,  and  still  more  in 
reading  the  Bible.  Every  word  seemed  to  come  home  with 
power.  Of  late,  I  have  none  of  those  rapturous  feelings,  which 
used  to  be  so  transporting  ;  but  I  enjoy  a  more  calm  and  equa- 
ble degree  of  comfort ;  and,  though  slowly,  yet  surely,  find 
myself  advancing. 

"  Feh.  11.  A  very  dull  day — almost  discouraged  ;  yet  1 
hope  the  experience  I  gain  of  my  utter  inability  to  think  so 
much  as  a  good  thought,  will  have  a  tendency  to  mortify  pride. 

^^  Feh.  15.  Felt  some  liveliness  in  morning  prayer,  and 
some  aspirations  after  greater  measures  of  holiness.  Resolved 
to  observe  this  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer.  After  seeking 
divine  assistance,  reflecting  on  the  innumerable  sins,  of  which 
my  life  has  been  full,  and  on  the  great  aggravations  that  en- 
hance my  guilt,  I  attempted,  I  hope  sincerely,  to  give  my- 
self and  all  I  possess  to  God,  in  the  renewal  of  my  covenant 
engagements. 

"  Feh.  16.  Very  dull  and  lifeless  in  the  morning.  Made  a 
resolution  to  restrain  my  temper,  and  the  next  moment  broke 
it.  Felt  more  lively  at  meeting.  In  the  afternoon  and  even- 
ing, was  remarkably  favored.  I  felt  such  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  God's  amazing  goodness,  and  my  own  unworthiness, 
as  I  never  had  before.  It  gave  me  a  most  earnest  desire  to 
spend  and  be  spent  in  the  service  of  God,  in  any  way  he  should 
please  to  employ  me. 

"  Feh.  17.  In  the  morning,  felt  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in 
the  power  of  his  might ;  thought  I  could  stand  against  all  ene- 
5 


50  MEMOIR  OF 

mies,  but  soon  was  as  lifeless  as  ever.  When  shall  I  leam 
that  all  my  sufficiency  is  of  God ! 

"  Feb.  19.  What  a  poor,  weak,  unstable  creature  I  am, 
when  Christ  is  absent !  Read  Baxter's  Saints'  Rest ;  but,  though 
it  is  very  affectingly  written,  I  was  totally  unmoved  by  it. 

"  Feb.  22.  This  is  a  day  to  be  remembered.  I  determined 
to  spend  it  in  fasting  and  prayer,  but  was  prevented.     In  the 

afternoon,  received  an  invitation  to  spend  the  evening  with , 

-,  &z^c. ;  but,  thanks  to  divine  goodness,  was  enabled  to  de- 


cline it.  I  tasted  much  sweetness  in  the  former  part  of  the 
evening  ;  but  in  the  latter  part,  I  Avas  favored  with  such  dis- 
plays of  divine  goodness,  as  almost  forced  me  to  exclaim,  Lord, 
stay  thine  hand  ! 

"  Feb.  23.  Was  again  favored  with  the  divine  presence. — 
I  have  some  expectation  of  a  heavy  stroke  impending.  If  it  is 
so,  God's  will  be  done. 

*'  Feb.  24.  A  great  falling  off  from  the  enjoyments  and 
life  of  yesterday ;  yet,  blessed  be  God,  I  am  not  wholly  de- 
serted. I  was  much  favored  in  speaking  to  the  scholars,  and 
they  seemed  rather  more  affected  than  common.  But  I  have 
suffered  much  to-day  from  the  attacks  of  spiritual  pride.  This, 
I  already  see,  will  be  the  enemy  against  v/hich  my  efforts  must 
be  directed,  and  which  will  cost  me  most  conflicts.  But  I  trust 
in  an  almighty  arm. 

"  Feb.  20.  I  drag  along  without  advancing.  O,  how  dis- 
proportionate are  my  endeavors  to  the  mighty  prize  for  which 
I  contend ! 

"  Feb.  28.  Resolved  to  spend  this  day  in  fasting  and 
prayer.  Did  so,  but  found  no  relief  Was  astonishingly  dead 
and  wandering.  In  reading  Mr.  Brainerd's  life,  I  seemed  to 
feel  a  most  ardent  desire  after  some  portion  of  his  spirit ;  but, 
when  I  attempted  to  pray,  it  vanished.  I  could  not  even 
mourn  over  my  coldness. 

"  Blarch  3.  In  the  evening,  partly  by  my  own  fault,  and 
partly  by  accident,  got  entangled  in  vain  company.  After- 
wards was  in  most  exquisite  distress  of  mind.  Had  a  clearer 
view  of  my  own  sinfulness  and  vileness  than  ever. 

"  March  4.  I  seem  rather  to  go  back  than  to  advance.  What 
a  display  of  divine  power,  to  make  a  saint  of  such  a  wretch  as  I ! 

"  March  6.  My  time  flies  like  a  vapor,  and  nothing  is  done. 
When  shall  I  begin  to  live  for  God ! 

"  March  8.  I  cannot  accuse  myself  of  indulging  in  any 
known  sin,  or  neglecting  any  known  duty;  but  I  am  so  life- 
less, so  little  engaged  in  religious  things,  that  I  seem  to  believe 
as  thougrh  I  believed  hot. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  51 

"  March  10.  Found  considerable  freedom  in  prayer.  Was 
too  passionate  in  a  dispute  about  a  theatre.  Had  little  free- 
dom in  speaking  to  the  scholars.  Was  enabled  to  be  diligent 
in  filling  up  my  time.     Was  assisted  in  my  studies. 

"  March  12.  1  act  as  if  eternal  things  were  a  dream.  When 
shall  I  be  wise ! 

"  Marcli  13.  Favored  with  great  liberty  in  prayer.  Was 
enabled  to  pray  for  others  more  than  usual. 

"  March  17.  Thanks  to  divine  goodness,  this  has  been  a 
good  day  to  me.  Was  favored  with  considerable  freedom  in 
the  morning,  and  rejoiced  in  the  Lord  through  the  day.  But 
in  the  evening,  felt  an  unusual  degree  of  assistance,  both  in 
prayer  and  study.     Since  I  began  to  beg  God's  blessing 

ON    MY    studies,    I    HAVE  DONE  MORE  IN    ONE    WEEK    THAN  IN 

THE  WHOLE  YEAR  BEFORE.  Surely,  it  is  good  to  draw  near  to 
God  at  all  times. 

"  March  19.  Less  freedom  in  prayer  than  usual.  In  the 
evening,  was  betrayed  into  folly,  if  not  into  sin.  Could  neither 
write  nor  read  with  any  profit.  What  a  miserable  creature 
am  I,  when  Jesus  withdraws  his  assistance  !  Was  very  positive 
in  a  trifle,  and  was  justly  punished  by  finding  myself  in  the 
wrong.     Hope  it  will  prove  a  profitable  lesson  to  me. 

**  March  23.  Am  much  exercised  respecting  applying  for 
license  to  preach,  and  afraid  I  am  under  the  influence  of  im- 
proper motives ;  but  I  trust  my  Guide  will  direct  me. 

"  March  23.  Read  Pike's  Saving  Faith  ;  and,  though  at 
first  I  was  somewhat  alarmed  with  fears  that  I  had  it  not,  yet, 
blessed  be  God,  my  fears  and  doubts  were  soon  removed.  1 
was  enabled  to  appeal  to  God  for  a  witness  of  what  he  has  done 
for  me.  1  know  that  I  love  my  Saviour  ;  and,  though  my  love 
is  infinitely  short  of  his  merits,  I  trust  He  who  gave  it  me  can 
and  will  increase  it.  I  am  sinful,  but  He  died  for  sinners. — 
Felt  unusual  fervency  and  sweetness  in  prayer,  and  reading  the 
Scriptures,  and  was  encouraged  to  go  on,  striving  for  more  ho- 
liness. 

"  March  29.  Renewed  my  covenant  with  God.  Asked 
assistance  to  do  it  with  sincerity.  My  prayer  was  answered  in 
an  unusual  degree.  I  had  a  clearer  view  of  my  own  vileness 
and  depravity,  and  a  more  distinct  and  satisfying  perception  of 
Christ's  all-sufficiency  and  goodness,  by  far,  than  I  ever  enjoy- 
ed before  ;  so  that  I  was  ready  to  think  I  had  never  known  any 
thing  of  the  matter.  Was  enabled  to  say,  Abba,  Father !  in 
the  true  spirit  of  adoption,  and  to  exercise  strong  faith  in  Christ 
and  love  to  him. 

"  March  30.     Had  more  comfort  in  ordinances  than  ever 


52  MEMOIR  OF 

before.  I  was  almost  ready  to  think  this  the  period  of  my 
conversion.  The  transport  I  felt  was  more  rational  and  pene- 
trating than  I  ever  before  experienced.  It  arose  from  an  ap- 
prehension of  the  perfect  sufficiency  of  Christ  in  alj  his  offices, 
and  from  a  clear  discovery  of  God  as  my  Father,  so  that  I  was 
enabled  to  trust,  rejoice,  and  exult  in  him. 

**  April  2.  Was  enabled  in  some  measure  to  guard  against 
a  peevish,  impatient  disposition.  In  the  evening,  unusually 
lively  and  fervent  in  prayer. 

"  April  5.  Was  very  much  harassed  with  wandering 
thoughts,  this  morning.  Sought  to  Christ  for  deliverance,  and 
found  it Have  fresh  reason  to  think  visiting  is  detriment- 
al. In  the  evening,  was  exceedingly  depressed  with  a  sense  of 
my  vileness.  I  wished  to  shrink  from  society  and  observation. 
Could  hardly  think  of  attempting  to  preach.  Threw  myself  at 
the  feet  of  my  blessed  Saviour,  and  poured  forth  my  sorrows 
and  complaints  before  him.  Yet  I  suspect  there  was  more  of 
self  than  any  other  principle  in  my  tears. 

"  April  8.  Was  much  exercised  to-day  on  the  subject  of 
election,  and  other  truths  connected  with  it.  Have  been  much 
in  doubt  respecting  offering  myself  for  examination  next  month. 
Fear  I  am  not  under  the  influence  of  proper  motives. 

"  April  13.  Sabbath.  Felt  the  love  of  God  sweetly  shed 
abroad  in  my  heart.  Continued  in  this  frame  all  the  morning. 
Derived  much  more  advantage  from  ordinances  than  usual, 
especially  from  the  sacrament.     A  profitable  day. 

^^ April  14.  Was  in  a  comfortable  frame  this  morning. — 
Had  some  assistance  in  speaking  to  my  scholars.  But,  alas ! 
my  heart  before  noon  betrayed  me  into  sin.  I  fell  into  a  pas- 
sion with  an  inanimate  substance ;  and  thought,  if  I  did  not 
utter,  curses.     Was  soon  aroused  to  a  sense  of  my  folly  and  guilt. 

"  April  19.  I  know  not  why,  but  this  has  been  the  worst 
week  I  have  had  these  six  months.  Believe  I  expected  too 
much  from  the  sacrament. 

"^prz7  20.  Had  some  sense  of  my  miserable  state,  but  lit- 
tle fervency  in  seeking  relief  Suspect  the  weather  and  my 
health  have  some  influence  on  me.  In  the  evening,  had  more 
fervency,  but  not  more  sensible  assistance.  Was,  however, 
resigned  to  my  Master's  will,  and  enabled  to  trust  in  him. 

a  ^pyii  26.  Was  much  favored  in  my  approaches  to  the 
throne  of  grace  to-day. 

"  May  1.  Rose  early,  and  had  some  life  and  comfort.  Have 
been  so  much  engaged  in  preparing  my  sermon  for  examina- 
tion, that  my  mind  has  been  much  taken  off*  from  religion.  I 
find  writing  sermons  is  not  praying. 


EDWARD  PAYSOIN.  53 

"  May  4.  It  is  now  long  since  I  have  enjoyed  any  of  those 
Bweet  seasons  of  communion  with  God,  which  used  to  be  my 
chief  happiness.  I  fear  I  have  neglected  the  Scriptures  too 
much.     Am  determined  to  pay  more  attention  to  tfifem. 

"  May  13.  This  was  the  day  in  which  I  intended  to  be  ex- 
amined before  the  Association,  but  it  pleased  JProvidence  to 
prevent.  In  the  evening,  reflected  on  my  la.te  coldness  and 
backwardness  in  religion,  and  resolved,  by  the  help  of  divine 
grace,  to  run  with  more  alacrity  the  race  set  before  me. 

"  May  18.  I  think  I  never  was  so  favored  in  prayer  for  so 
long  a  period  in  my  life.  At  meeting,  tolerably  lively.  In  the 
intermission,  and  after  meeting,  was  enabled  to  spend  the  time 
profitably,  so  that  I  never  was  favored  with  a  more  profitable 
Sabbath. 

"  May  19.  Enjoyed  considerable  fervor  in  the  morning, 
and  some  life  in  speaking  to  my  scholars.  Engaged  in  a  dis- 
pute at  breakfast ;  and  foolishly  became  angry.  Retired  ai^l 
prayed  for  him  with  whom  I  was  angry,  and  for  myself  V/as 
enabled,  in  a  considerable  degree,  to  conquer  my  anger  in  this 
matter. 

"  May  20.  Find  some  remains  of  anger,  notwithstanding 
all  my  endeavors  to  suppress  it. 

*^  May  22.  Since  I  began,  in  pursuance  of  my  design,  to 
read  the  Scriptures,  I  have  enjoyed  more  of  the  divine  pres- 
ence than  before. 

"  May  23.  Was  favored  in  prayer. — Was  applied  to  by 
the  selectmen  to  deliver  an  oration  on  the  4th  of  July.  Re- 
fused at  first ;  but,  being  persuaded  to  consider  of  it,  pride  and 
vanity  prevailed,  and  I  foolishly  complied. — Mem.  Never  to 
consider,  when  I  have  a  presentiment,  at  first,  what  I  ought 
to  do. 

"  Sabhath,  June  1.  Sacrament.  Enjoyed  much  of  the  di- 
vine presence  and  assistance  in  prayer  and  meditation.  Have 
never  had  a  more  profitable  morning.  Found  my  Saviour  in 
his  ordinances.  Hope  I  have  found  this  a  good  day.  Seem- 
ed to  feel  more  property  in  Christ  and  his  benefits  than  I  hat!^ 
ever  done  before.  After  meeting,  was  filled  with  the  blessed 
consolations  of  the  Spirit.  O,  how  refreshing  are  those  fore- 
tastes of  heaven  !  How  ravishing  the  presence  of  Jesus !  Felt 
a  full  assurance  of  my  interest  in  the  blessings  purchased 
by  Christ.  No  doubts  obscured  the  sunshine  of  my  mind. 
God  be  praised. 

**  June  9.  Resolved  to  spend  all  the  time  before  six  in  re- 
ligious exercises.     Enjoyed  some  comfort  in  prayer. 

"  June  15.     Sabbath.     Never  felt  such  strong  and  lively 
5* 


54  MEMOIR  OF 

faith  in  prayer  as  this  morning.  It  seemed  as  if  I  had  noth- 
ing to  do  but  to  take  whatever  I  pleased. 

^^  June  17.  Was  much  harassed  with  wandering  thoughts 
in  morning  prayer.     Was  much  assisted  in  my  studies. 

^^June  28^  Felt  myself  exceedingly  vile.  Found  no  com- 
fort in  the  exercises  of  public  worship.  My  oration  is  a  snare 
to  me.  O,  what  an  astonishing,  bewitching  power  a  thirst  for 
applause  has  over  my  mind  !  I  know  it  is  of  no  consequence 
what  mankind  think  of  me,  and  yet  I  am  continually  seeking 
their  approbation. 

"  June  29.  Sabbath.  Rose  early,  and  was  favored  with 
the  presence  and  assistance  of  the  blessed  Spirit  in  prayer. 
O,  how  sweet  and  refreshing  it  is  to  pour  out  our  souls  before 
God ! — O,  the  wonderful  and  unmerited  goodness  of  God,  in 
keeping  me  from  openly  disgracing  my  profession  !  If  he  had 
left  me  one  moment  to  myself,  I  had  been  ruined.  Next  Sab- 
hath  is  the  sacrament.  God  grant  that  it  may  be  a  refreshing 
season  to  me,  and  many  others. 

"  July  2.  Still  harassed  and  perplexed  about  my  oration. 
Could  not  have  believed,  that  the  desire  of  applause  had  gain- 
ed such  power  over  me. 

"  July  4.  Was  enabled  to  ask  for  assistance  to  perform  the 
services  of  the  day.  In  the  evening,  felt  in  a  most  sweet, 
humble,  thankful  frame.  How  shall  I  praise  the  Lord  for  all 
his  goodness ! 

'^  July  5.  Felt  much  of  the  same  temper  I  experienced 
yesterday.  In  the  evening,  was  favored  with  much  of  the  di- 
vine presence  and  blessing  in  prayer. — Mem,  Applause  can- 
not confer  happiness ! 

^^  July  6.  Sabbath.  My  infinitely  gracious  God  is  still 
present,  to  make  his  goodness  pass  before  vhq.  He  has  been 
with  me  this  morning  in  prayer,  and  enabled  me  sweetly  to 
say,  3Iy  Father ,  my  God.  At  the  sacrament,  my  gracious 
Saviour  favored  me  with  some  tokens  of  his  presence.  O  that 
I  could  find  words  to  express  half  his  goodness,  or  my  own  vile- 
ness !  I  hope  my  faith  received  some  increase.  But  what  I 
desire  to  praise  my  God  for,  is  his  wonderful  goodness  in  as- 
sisting me  against  pride. 

"  July  7.  Still  favored  with  the  smiles  of  my  blessed  Lord. 
Surely  his  loving  kindness  is  better  than  life.  How  conde- 
scendingly kind!  I  hope  he  is  teaching  me  the  value  of 
worldly  applause,  and  how  incompetent  it  is  to  afford  happi- 
ness. I  have  had  enough  to  satisfy  me,  if  there  were  any 
satisfaction  in  it.  But  happiness  is  to  be  found  in  God 
alone. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  55 

"  July  18.  Very  little  comfort  in  prayer.  Have  fallen  into 
a  sad,  lifeless  state  the  week  past.  Hope  it  will  convince 
me,  more  strongly  than  ever,  of  my  weakness  and  vileness. 

Sat  up  till  2  o'clock  at  night,  talking  with  Mr. ,  on 

religious  topics.     Found  he  had  more  to  say  in  defence  of 
Unitarianism,  than  I  could  have  supposed. 

"  July  23.  I  am  entirely  stupid.  Am  sensible  of  my  situ- 
ation, and  mourn  over  it,  in  some  measure,  but  cannot  escape. 

"  July  24.  No  life  at  all.  O  that  it  were  with  me  as  in 
months  past! — In  the  evening,  was  favored  with  more  of  the 
divine  presence  than  I  have  enjoyed  this  fortnight. 

"  July  25.  Spent  the  day,  according  to  previous  resolution, 
in  fasting  and  prayer.  Was  favored  with  much  of  the  divine 
presence  and  blessing,  so  that  it  was  a  comfortable  and  profit- 
able day  to  me.  Called  to  mind  the  events  of  my  past  life,  the 
mercies  I  have  received,  and  the  ill  returns  I  have  made  for 
them.  Felt  a  deep  sense  of  my  own  unworthiness,  and  the 
unmerited  goodness  of  God. 

^^  July  27.  Was  alarmed  with  respect  to  my  state,  by  read- 
ing Edwards  on  the  Affections  ;  but  obtained  comfort  and  as- 
surance by  prayer. 

"  Aug.  2.  Was  much  engaged  in  prayer,  and  thought  I 
was  humbled  under  a  sense  of  sin.  Was  enabled  to  plead 
with  some  earnestness  for  spiritual  blessings.  But  afterwards, 
reading  an  account  of  the  conversion  of  some  persons,  I  was 
led  to  doubt  whether  I  had  ever  known  what  it  meant,  and 
was  much  distressed. 

"  Aug.  3.  Was  again  disturbed  with  apprehensions  that  I 
knew  nothing  of  religion  ;  but,  though  I  could  not  come  to 
Christ,  as  one  of  his  members,  I  threw  myself  down  before 
him,  as  a  sinner,  who  needed  his  mediation,  and  my  doubts 
vanished. 

*'  Aug.  4.  Rose  with  the  impression,  that  all  I  had  former- 
ly experienced  was  a  delusion,  and  that  I  was  still  an  enemy 
to  God.  Was  enabled  to  go  to  Jesus,  and  plead  earnestly  for 
mercy,  not  for  my  own  sake,  but  for  his.  I  seemed  determin- 
ed, if  I  must  perish,  to  perish  at  his  feet ;  but  perhaps  I 
was  deceived.  However,  my  hopes  began  to  revive.  In 
the  evening,  foolishly  went  into  company,  and  had  no  time  for 
prayer. 

"  Aug.  16.  Seemed  to  be  something  more  alive  to  divine 
things,  this  morning.  Found  some  sweetness  in  prayer  and 
reading  the  Scriptures.  In  the  evening,  was  much  assisted  in 
preparation  for  the  sacrament  to-morrow." 


56  IklEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Retires  to  Rindge,  and  devotes  himself  exclusively/  to  his  prep^ 
aration  for  the  ministry. 

In  the  month  of  August,  1806,  Mr.  Payson  relinquished  his 
charge  of  the  Academy  in  Portland ;  and  *  after  settling  his 
business,  went  on  board  a  packet  for  Boston,'  in  which  he  re- 
mained several  days,  "  tossed  about  by  contrary  winds,  and 
wounded  by  the  oaths  and  blasphemies  of  the  wretches  on 
board."  He  has  described  "a  set"  of  his  fellow  passengers 
by  two  words,  indicative  of  all  that  is  revolting  to  modesty  and 
pious  feeling,  and  suited  to  "vex  the  righteous  soul;"  the 
bare  mention  of  which  would  cause  others  to  join  him  in  the 
exclamation — "  How  dreadful  to  spend  an  eternity  among 
such  wretches !"  On  the  fifth  day  from  his  embarkation,  the 
vessel  "  arrived  in  Boston  in  a  violent  gale  of  wind,  attended 
with  some  danger."  .  He  tarried  in  the  neighborhood,  till  after 
commencement,  and,  notwithstanding  the  *  noise  and  confu- 
sion, found  more  pleasure  than  he  had  expected,  in  meeting 
his  classmates.'  On  his  way  from  Cambridge  to  Rindge, 
he  rode  as  far  as  Groton  ;  but  whether  the  stage  rested  there 
over  night,  or  took  a  different  route,  and  his  desire  to  tread 
again  the  threshold  of  his  beloved  home,  alone  urged  him  for- 
ward— so  it  was,  that  he  left  the  stage,  and  ^^  walked  home 
from  Groton  after  six"  in  the  evening,  and  was  at  his  jour- 
ney's end  "about  four  the  next  morning,"  ready  to  "receive 
the  congratulations  of  his  friends."  His  father's  house  con- 
tinued, from  this  time,  to  be  his  hallowed  and  chosen  retire- 
ment, till  he  entered  on  the  active  duties  of  the  ministry. 

'^  Wisdom's  self 
Ofl  seeks  to  sweet  retired  solitude  j 
Where,  with  her  best  nurse.  Contemplation, 
She  plumes  her  feathers,  and  lets  grow  her  wing's." 

This  step,  considered  in  all  its  aspects,  may  justly  be  re- 
garded as  one  of  the  most  important  in  Mr.  Payson's  life,  and 
reflects  the  highest  honor  on  his  judgment  and  good  sense. 
Four  months  previously  to  this  time,  as  has  been  seen  in  the 
preceding  pages,  he  seriously  contemplated  making  application 
for  license  to  preach  the  gospel.     Whatever  were  the  cause 


EDWARD  PAYSON  57 

that  prevented  him,  a  gracious  providence  is  visible  in  it ;  not 
that  he  was  particularly  deficient  in  sacred  learning  ;  on  the 
contrary,  his  theological  knowledge  was  probably  equal  to  that 
of  most  *  candidates.'  Among  the  works  which  he  is  known* 
to  have  read  with  care,  might  be  named  Watson's  Tracts,  Wit- 
sius,  Stackhouse,  Jonathan  Edwards,  besides  many  works  of 
devotion  and  practical  divinity.  Abstracts  of  several  other 
treatises  still  exist  in  his  hand-writing,  which  were  made  before 
he  left  Portland  ;  also  a  collection  of ''  Thoughts  on  the  Com- 
position and  Delivery  of  Sermons."  Still,  during  all  this  time, 
he  was  invested  with  a  public  trust  of  no  light  responsibility. 
His  school  must  have  mainly  engrossed  his  time,  his  thoughts, 
and  his  cares.  To  suppose  that  his  professional  studies  were 
allowed  more  than  a  secondary  claim  to  his  attention,  were  to 
suppose  him  unfaithful  to  an  important  charge,  w^hich  he  had 
voluntarily  assumed.  And  though  he  could  hardly  have  been 
other  than  a  distinguished  preacher,  even  had  he  entered  on 
the  sacred  office  without  further  preparation,  yet  he  would  not 
have  been  the  minister  he  afterwards  was.  This  season  of  re- 
tirement has  an  intimate  connexion  with  his  subsequent  emi- 
nence and  usefulness.  To  the  occupations  of  these  days  of 
seclusion  from  the  world,  more  than  to  any  other  means,  may 
be  traced  his  gigantic  *  growth  in  the  knowledge  of  God,'  and 
that  extraordinary  unction  which  attended  his  performance  of 
official  duties. 

This  period  of  his  history  is  memorable,  and  highly  instruc- 
tive to  the  student  of  theology.  Having,  after  much  delibera- 
tion and  prayer,  chosen  the  ministry  of  reconciliation  as  the 
business  of  his  future  life,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  work  of 
preparation  with  an  exclusiveness  and  ardor  perhaps  never  ex- 
ceeded. From  every  study  and  pursuit,  whatever  its  charms 
and  attractions,  which  was  not  directly  subsidiary  to  his  grand 
design,  he  resolutely  divorced  himself, — at  least  till  he  had 
acquired  the  art — analogous  to  the  supposed  properties  of  the 
philosopher's  stone — ^^  of  turning  all  to  gold."  He  seems  to 
have  concentrated  and  directed  all  his  powers  to  the  acquisi- 
tion of  scriptural  knowledge,  and  the  cultivation  of  Christian 
and  ministerial  graces,  in  obedience  to  the  apostolical  precept, 
"  give  thyself  wholly  to  them."  A  decision  once  formed  was 
with  him  usually  final ;  and,  in  executing  his  purpose,  ^^  what- 

*  His  progress  in  some  of  them  is  noted  in  his  diary,  near  the  ^^  hiatus  "  al- 
ready spoken  of,  which  probably  contained  more  notices  of  the  same  kind.  The 
diary,  which  was  ^^  commenced  as  a  check  upon  the  misemployment  of  time," 
and  which  did  at  first  record  the  occupations  of  every  hour,  ere  long  became 
almost  exclusively  a  record  of  his  religious  exercises  and  experience. 


58  MEMOIR  OF 

ever  his  hand  found  to  do  he  did  with  his  might."  These,  his 
permanent  characteristics,  were  eminently  conspicuous  at  this 
period,  while  learning  to 

"  neffotiale  between  God  and  man, 
As  God^s  amBassador,  the  grand  concerns 
Of  judgment  and  of  mercy." 

With  the  most  exalted  views  of  the  holy  office  to  which  he  was 
looking  forward,  and  of  the  qualifications  requisite  to  its  com- 
petent and  successful  execution,  he  sought  them  with  a  pro- 
portionate zeal,  devoting  himself  to  the  study  of  the  sacred 
pages,  if  man  ever  did,  "  with  all  the  heart,  and  soul,  and 
strength,  and  mind." 

For  *'  Systems  of  Divinity,"  as  drawn  up  by  men,  Mr.  Pay- 
son  seems  to  have  felt  but  little  reverence.  It  was  not  his 
habit  to  decry  them  as  useless  ;  but  he  regarded  them  with  a 
watchful  jealousy,  and  felt  it  unsafe  to  trust  to  them,  as  his 
practice  evidently  demonstrates.  He  found  "  a  more  excellent 
way "  to  the  knowledge  of  his  Master's  will,  by  consulting 
directly  '*  the  law  and  the  testimony."  Thus  to  honor  the 
"  lively  oracles"  is  the  wisest  and  safest  course  for  every  man; 
for  to  embrace  a  system,  with  the  intention  of  retaining  or 
rejecting  it,  either  wholly  or  in  part,  as  it  shall  afterwards  be 
found  to  agree,  or  not,  with  Scripture,  is  to  incur  the  hazard 
of  perpetuating  error — since  a  man's  theory  is  more  likely  to 
modify  his  views  of  the  Scriptures,  than  the  Scriptures  are  to 
correct  the  mistakes  of  his  theory.  This  every  one  may  have 
observed  in  regard  to  those  whose  sentiments  differ  from  his 
own.  Before  this  time,  indeed,  the  works  of  the  most  emi- 
nent divines  of  our  own  and  other  countries,  which  were  then 
accessible,  and  which  he  is  known  to  have  read,  had  doubt- 
less exerted  some  influence  in  forming  his  religious  opinions  ; 
but  he  was  obviously  wedded  to  none.  To  none  did  he  feel 
the  attachment  of  a  partisan  ;  he  had  not  arrived  to  that  state 
of  mind  which  made  him  feel  interested  to  defend  an  opinion 
because  any  human  master  had  said  it.  The  polluting  and 
disorganizing  tendency  of  loose  opinions  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  scarcely  less  deplorable  effects  of  dogmatism  on  the 
other,  which  could  not  have  escaped  his  observation,  not  less 
than  the  spirit  of  religion  and  his  constitutional  independence 
of  mind,  conspired  to  lead  him  to  a  just  estimate  of  the  value 
of  human  authority  in  matters  of  religious  belief,  and  to  con- 
summate his  reverence  for  the  "  sure  word  of  prophecy,"  and 
his  confidence  in  Revelation,  as  an  adequate  foundation  for 
his  faith,  and  an  infallible  guide  in  duty. 

"  Here  is  firm  footing' — all  is  sea  besides." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  59 

Most  men,  however  discordant  their  principles,  profess  to 
have  derived  them  from  the  Scriptures;  but,  with  Mr.  P.,  this 
was  something  more  than  pretence.  The  Bible  was  with  him 
the  subject  of  close,  critical,  persevering,  and,  for  a  time,  al- 
most exclusive  attention,  his  reading  being  principally  confined 
to  such  writings  as  would  assist  in  its  elucidation,  and  unfold 
its  literal  meaning.  In  this  manner  he  studied  the  whole  of 
the  Inspired  Volume,  from  beginning  to  end,  so  that  there 
was  not  a  verse  on  which  he  had  not  formed  an  opinion. 
This  is  not  asserted  at  random.  It  is  but  a  few  years  since, 
that,  in  conversation  with  a  candidate  for  the  ministry,  he 
earnestly  recommended  very  particular  and  daily  attention  to 
the  study  of  the  Scriptures,  and  enforced  his  counsel  by  his 
own  experience  of  the  advantages  which  would  accrue  from 
the  practice.  He  observed  that  before  he  commenced  preach- 
ing, he  made  it  his  great  object  to  know  what  the  Bible  taught 
on  every  subject,  and,  with  this  purpose,  investigated  every 
sentence  in  it  so  far  as  to  be  able  '  to  give  an  answer  to  every 
man  who  should  ask  a  reason  for  it.'* 

In  this  way  he  acquired  his  unparalleled  readiness  to  meet 
every  question,  on  every  occasion,  whether  proposed  by  a  cav- 
iller or  a  conscientious  inquirer,  which,  it  is  well  known,  he 
usually  did  in  a  manner  as  satisfactory  as  it  often  was  unex- 
pected. The  advantages  hence  derived  were,  in  his  viev, 
beyond  all  computation.  It  secured  for  him  the  unlimited 
confidence  of  people  in  the  common  walks  of  life,  as  "  a  man 
mighty  in  the  Scriptures."  It  gave  him  great  influence  with 
Christians  of  other  denominations.  It  enabled  him  to  con- 
found and  silence  gainsayers,  when  they  could  not  be  convin- 
ced, as  well  as  to  build  up  the  elect  of  God  on  their  most  holy 
faith.  It  furnished  him,  too,  with  ten  thousand  forms  of  illus- 
tration, or  modes  of  conveying  to  ordinary  minds  the  less  ob- 
vious truths,  with  which  he  was  conversant  in  the  exercise  of 
his  ministry.  He  believed  "  all  Scripture  to  be  given  by  in- 
spiration of  God,  and  profitable  for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for 

*  It  is  not  here  alleged  that  Dr.  Payson  comprehended  all  that  is  contained 
in  the  Scriptures,  much  less  that  he  arrogated  to  himself  such  knowledge  j  for, 
though  "the  word  of  Christ  dwelt  richly"  in  him,  he  doubtless  continued  to 
*'  increase  in  the  knowledge  of  God"  by  every  perusal  of  it^  how  often  soever 
repeated,  till  the  last,  and  even  then  saw  as  through  a  glass,  darkly,  compared 
with  the  visions  of  heaven.  Some  truths  cannot  be  fully  comprehended,  and 
may  have  various  relations  which  never  will  be  known  on  earth.  Many  things 
respecting  unfulfilled  predictions  can  be  known  by  no  man  till  after  their  ac- 
complishment. But  he  had  lyiade  every  passage  a  distinct  object  of  attention, 
and,  if  ''  hard  to  be  understood,"  he  could  state  to  the  inquirer  the  causes  of 
the  obscurity,  and  in  the  very  fact  find  a  powerful  motive  to  humility,  diligence, 
and  prayer  for  divine  illumination,  thus  rendering  the  darkest  texts  "  profitable." 


60  MEMOIR  OF 

correction,  and  for  instruction  in  righteousness ;"  and  he  was 
himself  a  most  striking  exemplification  of  its  competency  to 
render  "  the  man  of  God  perfect,  thoroughly  furnished  unto 
every  good  work." 

Of  Mr.  Payson's  devotion  to  the  Scriptures  there  is  evi- 
dence of  a  different  nature  fi'om  that  which  has  just  been 
given.  Among  his  papers  has  been  found  a  small  manuscript 
volume,  containing  "  Notes"  on  most  of  the  books  of  Scrip- 
ture. It  is  among  the  few  interesting  relics  of  this  period  of 
his  life.  The  manuscript  ends  with  remarks  on  1  John,  v.  8. 
Whether  they  were  continued,  in  another  volume,  to  the  end 
of  Revelation,  does  not  appear.  These  notes  are  short  in 
themselves,  and  much  abbreviated  in  the  form  of  expression, 
but  bear  marks  of  a  kind  and  extent  of  investigation  highly 
creditable  to  his  learning"^  and  judgment,  as  well  as  to  his 
diligence  and  fidelity.  Discrepancies  are  accounted  for  and 
reconciled ;  figures  are  explained  ;  chronology,  philosophy,  to- 
pography, natural  history,  ancient  languages,  are  made  to  con- 
tribute to  the  elucidation  of  Scripture.  Against  prophecies, 
which  have  received  their  completion,  are  found  references  to 
the  historical  characters  and  events  by  which  they  are  suppos- 
ed to  have  been  fulfilled.  It  is  difficult  to  characterize  these 
notes  by  any  general  term,  except  that  they  are  exegetical,  in 
distinction  from  practical  and  experimental.  Those  on  the 
New  Testament  are  professedly  collated,  in  part ;  and,  though 
the  same  should,  on  examination,  be  found  true  of  the  rest, 
the  manuscript  is  evidence  of  his  careful  study  of  the  Scrip- 
tures ;  and  for  this  purpose  it  was  introduced  to  notice. 

To  learn  more  fully  Mr.  Payson's  estimate  of  the  Scriptures, 
the  reader  should  peruse,  in  this  connexion,  his  sermon,  en- 
titled "  The  Bible  above  all  Price."  In  that  discourse  the 
preacher  is  much  at  home  ;  he  treads  on  ground  where  he 
delighted  to  linger.  He  explores  a  field  with  whose  riches 
and  beauties  he  was  familiar.  He  clusters  together  its  excel- 
lences with  a  dexterous  and  bountiful  hand,  and  describes  its 
efficacy  like  one  who  ^  spoke  that  which  he  knew,  and  testified 
that  vv^hich  he  had  seen.'  His  familiarity  with  the  Scriptures 
was  strikingly  apparent  in  his  pulpit  addresses  generally  ;  not 
so  much  by  long  quotations  as  by  their  general  spirit,  and  the 
sacred  associations  he  was  continually  awakening.  They  bore 
prominent  traces  of  the  divine  model  he  so  faithfully  studied, 

*  To  what  extent  Dr.  Payson  was  familiar  with  the  original  language  of  the 
Old  Testament,  the  writer  is  not  informed.  That  it  was  amon^  the  objects  of 
his  attention  at  this  time,  there  is  evidence  in  his  own  hand-writing  5  but  none 
very  conclusive  that  his  acquaintance  with  Hebrew  was  minute  and  critical. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  (}1 

not  in  matter  only,  but  in  the  manner  of  exhibiting  it, — so 
plain,  that  his  hearers  could  not  but  see  it, — enforced  by  con- 
siderations so  reasonable  and  moving,  that  they  must  feel  self- 
condemned  for  rejecting  it.  They  were  not  the  cold  abstrac- 
tions of  a  speculative  mind,  but  the  doctrines  which  are  ac- 
cording to  godliness,  clothed  in  the  fervid  language  which 
affection  dictates.  They  were  not  truths  merely  ;  but  truths 
uttered  by  one  who  had  felt  their  power,  and  experienced  their 
consolations,  under  the  influence  of  that  Spirit,  who,  to  use 
his  own  expressive  language,  "  lives  and  speaks  in  every  line." 
But  there  is  another  part  of  his  example  more  difficult  to 
imitate  than  the  one  just  sketched.  He  prayed  without  ceas- 
ing. Aware  of  the  aberrations  to  which  the  human  mind  is 
liable,  he  most  earnestly  sought  the  guidance  and  control  of 
the  Holy  Spirit.  He  felt  safe  nowhere  but  near  the  throne 
of  grace.  He  may  be  said  to  have  studied  theology  on  his 
knees.  Much  of  his  time  he  spent  literally  prostrated,  with 
the  Bible  open  before  him,  pleading  the  promises — "  I  will 
send  the  Comforter — and  when  he,  the  Spirit  of  truth,  is  come, 
he  will  guide  you  into  all  truth."  He  was  especially  jealous  of 
his  own  heart,  and,  to  conquer  its  evil  propensities,  subjected 
his  body  as  weii  as  his  mind  to  the  severest  discipline.  No 
man  ever  strove  harder  to  "  mortify  the  flesh,  with  the  affec- 
tions and  lusts."  It  is  almost  incredible,  what  abstinence  and 
self-denial  he  voluntarily  underwent,  and  what  tasks  he  im- 
posed on  himself,  that  he  might  "  bring  every  thought  into 
captivity  to  the  obedience  of  Christ."  He  allowed  himself  only 
a  small  part  of  the  twenty-four  hours  for  sleep* ;  and  his  sea- 
sons of  fasting  were  injuriously  frequent.  So  far  did  he  carry 
his  abstinence  from  food,  that  his  family  were  alarmed  for  his 
safety.  Often  has  his  mother,  whom  he  most  tenderly  loved 
and  reverenced,  and  whose  wishes  were  law  to  him,  in  every 
thing  besides  his  religious  principles,  and  intercourse  with  his 
Maker — in  every  thing,  in  short,  which  did  not  bind  the  con- 
science— often  has  his  mother,  or  a  favorite  sister,  stood  at  the 
door  of  his  chamber,  with  a  little  milk,  or  some  other  refresh- 
ment equally  simple,  pleading  in  vain  for  admission. 

*  The  following  division  and  appropriation  of  his  time  was  entered  in  his  dia- 
ry about  five  weeks  after  his  return  to  his  father's : 

"  Oct.  5.  Resolved  to  devote,  in  future,  twelve  hours  to  study  j  two  to  de- 
votion ;  two  to  relaxation  ;  two  to  meals  and  family  devotions ;  and  six  to 
sleep."  But  this  did  not  long  satisfy  him.  His  rigid  notions  of  duty  led  him  to 
subtract  two  hours  from  the  six  devoted  to  sleep,  and  to  multiply  his  seasons 
of  fasting  to  a  degree  which  the  human  system  could  not  long  have  sustained. 
A  weekly  fast,  however,  wajs  habitual  with  him,  from  this  time  till  his  last  sick- 
ness. 

6 


62  MExMOIR  OF 

The  expediency  or  duty  of  such  severe  mortification  turns 
on  the  question  of  its  necessity  to  the  attainment  of  the  object, 
for  which,  in  this  instance,  it  was  practised.  If  the  subjection 
of  the  heart  and  mind,  with  all  their  powers,  to  Christ,  could 
not  otherwise  be  effected,  he  was  unquestionably  right ;  for  no 
sacrifice  or  suffering,  which  is  requisite  to  this,  can  be  too 
great.  "  If  thy  right  hand  offend  thee,  cut  it  off;  if  thine  eye 
cause  thee  to  offend,  pluck  it  out."  It  is  moreover  true,  that 
the  most  eminent  saints  of  ancient  and  later  times  have  de- 
voted frequent  seasons  to  private  fasting  and  prayer ;  and  the 
practice  may,  therefore,  be  ranked  among  the  essential  means 
of  rapid  and  extensive  growth  in  grace.  *It  were  well  for  in- 
dividuals, it  were  well  for  the  church,  if  the  practice  should 
revive,  and  become  common.*  So  far  from  weakening  the 
charities  of  life,  or  diminishing  the  amount  of  active,  social 
duties,  it  would  greatly  enhance  them.  We  should  witness  a 
more  vigorous  and  determined  piety,  a  more  diffusive  and  effi- 
cient benevolence. 

Still  the  religion  of  Christ  enjoins  no  needless  austerities. 
It  has  at  times  called,  and  may  again  call,  for  the  sacrifice  of 
health,  and  life,  and  treasure ;  for  the  renunciation  of  friends, 
and  home,  and  all  its  endearments.  But  in  ordinary  circum- 
stances, *  Godliness  is  profitable  unto  all  things — to  the  life 
that  now  is,  as  well  as  that  which  is  to  come.'  It  did  not  re- 
quire injurious  excess  of  abstinence  and  mortification  in  one 
situated  as  Mr.  Payson  was.  He  afterwards  saw  his  error — 
not  in  fasting,  but  in  fasting  so  long — and  lamented  it.  In 
this  matter,  his  mother  was  the  wiser  counsellor.  What  she 
feared  came  upon  him;  the  unhappy  consequences  to  his 
health  were  felt,  it  is  believed,  to  his  dying  day. 

The  truth  is,  Mr.  Payson  never  did  any  thing  by  halves. 
Whatever  were  the  objects  immediately  before  him,  he  was 
totus  in  illis,  wholly  engrossed  with  them.  He  was  therefore 
particularly  liable,  at  this  stage  of  his  experience,  glowing,  as 
he  did,  with  all  the  ardors  of  a  first  love,  and  panting  for  the 
honor  of  winning  souls  to  Jesus,  to  give  an  undue  intensity  to 

*  There  are  some  distinguished  laborers  in  the  vineyard  of  our  Lord,  who 
practise  the  essential  duty  here  recommended,  not  so  much  by  totally  abstain- 
mg  from  food  beyond  the  accustomed  intervals,  as  by  '  denying  themselves'  at 
every  meal,  and  using  a  spare  and  simple  diet  at  all  times, — a  course  well 
adapted  to  preserve  both  mind  and  body  in  the  best  condition  for  biblical  re- 
search and  devotional  exercises.  This  modification  of  the  duty  was  much 
practised  by  Mr.  Payson,  and  strongly  recommended  by  him  to  the  members 
of  his  church.  He  would  have  them,  when  fasting  on  their  own  private  ac- 
count, not  "  appear  unto  men  to  fast ;"  but  to  come  to  the  table,  which  was 
spread  for  their  families,  with  a  cheerful  countenance,  and  partake  sparingly  of 
its  provisions. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  63 

the  meaning  of  those  passages  which  prescribed  his  personal 
duty.  When  he  read  the  strong  language  of  Paul — *'  mortify 
your  members,  that  are  upon  the  earth  ;"  and  contemplated  his 
example — "  I  keep  under  my  body,  and  bring  it  into  subjec- 
tion ;"  and  desired  above  all  things  to  be  another  such  champi- 
on of  the  cross  ;  his  susceptible  and  ardent  mind  might  have 
imbibed  views  of  duty,  which  needed  to  be  corrected  by  another 
remark  of  the  same  apostle — '' bodily  exercise  profiteth  little." 
When  attended  with  the  expectation,  however  latent,  that  it 
will  purchase  immunities,  or  merit  heaven,  so  far  from  ^  profit- 
ing' at  all,  it  vitiates  the  act,  rendering  it  not  only  useless,  but 
abominable.  Such  an  expectation,  however,  was  totally  ab- 
horrent to  all  Dr.  Payson's  views ;  and  its  existence  in  the 
faintest  degree  is  not  to  be  supposed  on  any  other  principles 
than  those  which  are  common  to  men,  whose  deceitful  hearts 
practise  innumerable  impositions,  unsuspected  by  their  pos- 
sessors. 

If  ''he  who  ruleth  his  spirit  is  greater  than  he  who  taketh 
a  city,"  the  rigid  discipline  and  government,  to  which  Mr.  Pay- 
son  subjected  the  passions  of  the  mind,  and  the  appetites  of  the 
body,  afford  the  most  conclusive  proof  of  his  real  greatness,  as 
well  as  of  his  decision  and  energy  of  character,  and  of  his 
unshaken  adherence  to  his  purposes.  Ignorance  and  preju- 
dice, under  a  show  of  superior  discernment,  will  see  in  this 
conduct  the  future  "pope;"  for  prejudice,  like  malice,  will  re- 
main blind  to  one  important  fact,  which  should  never  be  lost 
sight  of  in  estimating  Mr.  Payson's  character.  Except  in 
things  expressly  enjoined  in  the  Scriptures,  he  never,  at  this 
time  or  afterwards,  made  his  own  practice  a  law  for  others. — 
If  he  "  bound  heavy  burdens  and  grievous  to  be  borne,"  he 
did  not  *  lay  them  on  other  men's  shoulders,'  but  made  his 
own  bear  their  oppressive  weight.  He  urged  self-denial,  prayer, 
and  fasting,  indeed,  as  he  was  obliged  by  the  authority  under 
which  he  acted  ;  but  left  the  measure  and  degree  to  the  decis- 
ion of  each  man's  conscience.  He  knew  more  than  others  of 
the  strength  of  depravity  in  his  own  heart,  and  supposed  he 
had  need  of  severe  measures  to  subdue  it;  that  it  was  of  a 
*  kind,'  of  which  he  could  not  be  dispossessed  '  but  by  prayer 
and  fasting.'  He  rightly  judged,  too,  that  a  minister  of  the 
meek  and  self-denying  Jesus  needed  a  more  than  ordinary 
share  of  humility  and  self-government,  to  be  separated  far- 
ther from  the  contaminations  of  the  world  than  other  men,  and 
to  have  the  habitual  state  of  his  affections  more  heavenly. — 
Moreover,  he  had  an  overwhelming  sense  of  ministerial  respon- 
sibility, and  looked  forward  to  the  office,  not  without  hope  in- 


64  MEMOIR  OF 

deed,  but  yet  trembling  for  the  results.  Why  then  should  he 
not  learn  to  *  endure  hardness  as  a  good  soldier  of  Jesus 
Christ  V  And  yet  thousands  of  nominal  Christians  will  cen- 
sure this  severe  regimen,  as  criminal,  by  whom  he  would  have 
been  suffered  to  escape  without  animadversion,  had  he  indulg- 
ed in  an  occasional  surfeit,  and  mingled  in  parties  of  pleasure. 

But  who  can  say,  that  he  was  not  moved  by  an  influence 
which  it  would  have  been  sinful  to  resist,  at  least  till  he  had 
reached  that  limit,  beyond  which  perseverance  was  excess? 
That  God,  who  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning,  fits  his  in- 
struments for  the  peculiar  service  which  he  is  preparing  for 
them.  A  great  and  arduous  work  was  appointed  for  Mr. 
Payson,  as  the  event  proved.  And  for  that  kind  of  prepara- 
tion, which  consists  in  fasting  and  communion  with  God,  he 
had  the  high  example  of  the  Jewish  lawgiver,  and  of  One 
greater  than  Moses.  Thus  did  Christ,  our  Exemplar,  previous 
to  entering  on  his  public  ministry  ;  and  also  w  hen  from  among 
his  disciples  he  *  chose  twelve,  whom  he  named  apostles.' — 
Thus  did  the  apostles,  after  Christ's  ascension,  whenever  they 
were  called  to  set  apart  a  brother  to  the  work  of  the  ministry. 

In  this,  however,  and  other  duties,  the  time,  manner,  and 
extent  of  which  are  left  undetermined  by  the  express  statutes 
of  Christ's  kingdom,  it  is  safer  to  act  according  to  our  convic- 
tions of  duty,  for  the  time  being,  than  to  make  these  convic- 
tions our  unchangeable  rule  of  conduct  for  future  time.  It  is 
a  wise  direction,  "Be  not  rash  with  thy  mouth,  and  let  not  thy 
heart  be  hasty  to  utter  any  thing  before  God."  In  binding 
ourselves  by  vows  to  any  course  of  conduct,  regard  should  be 
had  to  our  circumstances,  as  social  beings,  dependent  on  one 
another,  as  well  as  on  the  Author  of  our  existence.  No  man, 
perhaps,  ever  reached  any  high  degree  of  eminence,  who  did 
not  form  purposes  and  resolutions,  and  adhere  to  them,  when 
formed,  with  some  degree  of  constancy.  There  are  obvious 
advantages  in  having  our  general  course  marked  out  before  us — 
in  prosecuting  our  various  duties  by  system,  and  not  at  random. 
But  when  we  descend  to  details,  and  assign,  beforehand,  to 
every  hour  of  the  day  its  employment,  or  oblige  ourselves  to 
fill  up  a  given  number  of  hours  with  a  particular  pursuit,  we 
should  not  overlook  the  limits  of  human  ability,  nor  the  thou- 
sand changes  which  may  take  place  in  our  circumstances,  and 
iti  our  relations  with  those  beings,  among  whom  God  has  plac- 
ed us.  In  consequence  of  such  changes,  other  duties  may 
have  a  paramount  claim  to  those  very  hours ;  and  if  our  reso- 
lutions are  formed  without  an  eye  to  such  contingencies,  they 
may  prove  a  snare  to  us.     Disappointments  will  be  unavoida- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  65 

ble ;  vexation  and  discouragement  will  ensue.  It  is  not  to  be 
presumed  that  Mr.  Payson  formed  his  purposes  without  refer- 
ence to  the  vicissitudes  of  the  human  condition.  Still,  his 
chagrin  on  failing  sometimes  to  accomplish  them,  affords  rea- 
son to  think  that  he  might  have  been  too  sanguine.  It  is  a 
little  remarkable,  that  the  next  day  after  he  had  sketched  the 
plan  for  his  future  daily  employment,  unforeseen  events  neces- 
sarily prevented  his  executing  it : — 

*^  Oct.  6.  In  great  confusion  this  morning — sister  sick — 
father  going  a  journey — little  time  for  prayer.  Was  so  much 
hindered  in  various  ways,  that  I  did  not  fulfil  my  twelve  hours  J* 

From  causes  equally  beyond  his  control,  he  often  failed  of 
accomplishing  all  that  he  prescribed  to  himself  Such  were, 
nevertheless,  his  most  laborious  days.  When  hindered  and 
diverted  from  his  object,  he  would  goad  himself  onward  to  ex- 
traordinary exertion ;  and  when  successful  in  executing  his 
plan,  his  satisfaction  was  exquisite. 

The  influence  of  habitual  prayer  upon  his  studies,  was  so 
certain,  and  so  operative,  that  the  strength  of  his  devotion 
seems,  for  the  most  part,  to  have  been  the  measure  of  his  prog- 
ress. By  his  very  near  approaches  to  the  Father  of  lights,  his 
mind  received,  as  it  were,  the  direct  beams  of  the  Eternal 
Fountain  of  illumination.  In  the  light  of  these  beams,  the 
truths  of  religion  were  distinctly  perceived,  and  their  relations 
readily  traced.  These  irradiations  from  the  throne  of  God 
not  only  contributed  to  the  clearness  of  his  perceptions,  but 
imparted  a  kind  of  seraphic  energy  and  quickness  to  his  men- 
tal operations.  From  them  he  derived,  not  light  only,  but  heat. 
Few  requests  were  urged  by  him  more  constantly  and  ear- 
nestly, than  his  petitions  for  assistance  in  study  ;  and  not  un- 
frequently  he  records  results  similar  to  the  following — **  Was 
much  assisted  in  my  studies  this  evening,  so  that,  notwith- 
standing I  was  interrupted,  I  was  enabled  to  write  twelve 
pages  of  my  sermon.  It  was  the  more  precious,  because  it 
seemed  to  be  in  answer  to  prayer."  Those,  who  would  esteem 
such  an  "  evening's  work"  as  too  insignificant  to  be  noticed 
with  special  gratitude,  should  know,  that  he  had  now  been 
only  part  of  a  month  in  his  retirement.  Three  days  later  he 
writes — "  Was  most  remarkably  assisted  in  study,  so  that  I 
wrote  three  fourths  of  a  sermon."  And  on  the  other  hand, 
there  are  entries  of  a  different  character.  One  may  serve  as  a 
specimen : — 

6* 


60  MEMOIR  OF 

"  Sept.  23.  Was  quite  dull  and  lifeless  in  prayer,  and,  in 
consequence,  had  no  success  in  study." 

Sometimes  even  his  "  lively,"  fervent  prayers  w^ere  not  fol- 
lowed by  immediate  returns  ;  but  when  the  answer  was  grant- 
ed, it  brought  with  it  a  rich  compensation  for  the  extreme  per- 
plexity and  distress,  which  the  delay  occasioned  him : — 

^^ March  4.  Was  entirely  discouraged  respecting  my  stud- 
ies, and  almost  determined  to  give  up  in  despair.  But  see  the 
goodness  of  God  !  He  enabled  me  to  write  a  whole  sermon, 
besides  reading  a  great  deal ;  and  in  the  evening,  was  pleased 
to  lift  up  the  light  of  his  countenance  upon  me.  O,  how  re- 
freshing, strengthening,  and  animating  are  his  smiles !  Hov/ 
ravishing  the  contemplation  of  his  holiness,  love,  wisdom,  pow- 
er and  goodness  !  He  seemed  to  be  a  boundless  ocean  of  love  ; 
and  the  sight  caused  my  heart  to  expand  with  love  to  him  and 
all  his  creatures.  O,  how  trifling  do  earthly  beauties  appear, 
when  he  is  pleased  to  unveil  his  face,  and  give  a  glimpse  of 
heaven  !     His  holiness  is  the  chief  glory  of  his  nature." 

But  in  nothing  was  his  progress  more  rapid,  than  in  self- 
knowledge.  Here — whether  success  or  disappointment  crown- 
ed his  other  pursuits — he  was  continually  extending  his  dis- 
coveries. To  those  who  are  ignorant  of  "  the  plague  of  their 
own  heart,"  his  confessions  of  sin  must  appear  extravagant, 
and  his  description  of  his  heart,  a  picture  having  no  original 
save  in  an  apostate  spirit.  He  calls  it  ''  a  compound  of  every 
thing  bad."  He  likens  it  to  the  '  bottomless  pit ;  out  of  it — 
as  soon  as  the  door,  with  which  the  Holy  Spirit  covers  it,  is 
opened  by  his  absence — a  thick,  noisome  smoke  arises,  with  a 
tribe  of  hellish  locusts,  that  devour  the  tender  plants  of  grace, 
and  bring  on  a  darkness   which  may   be  felt.'     Now,  he   is 

*  crushed  into  the  very  dust  by  a  recollection  of  the  sins  of  his 
youth  ;' — now,  '  filled  with  distressing  feelings,  and  loses  all 
iiope,  that  he  shall  ever  be  fit  to  preach  ;'  while  these  very  feel- 
ings he  attributes  to  a  criminal  cause,  as,  *  disappointed  pride, 
and  a  conscious  inferiority  to  others.'     At  another  time,  he  is 

*  brought  into  temptations,  which  show  his  inward  corruptions, 
against  which  he  had  been  praying,'  or  which  he  had  not  be- 
fore suspected  in  himself.  Again,  if  he  *  attempts  to  approach 
the  throne  of  grace,  whole  floods  of  evil  imaginations  carry  him 
away  !  so  that  he  is  fain  to  have  recourse  to  unthought-of 
methods  to  get  rid  of  them.'     And,  not  to  prolong  the  enu- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  67 

meration,  he  is  oppressed  with  ^  such  a  sense  of  his  insignifi- 
cance and  vileness,  that  it  seemed  as  if  he  should  never  open 
his  mouth  any  more,  to  boast,  complain,  or  censure.' 

Still,  his  religion  differed  as  widely  from  that  of  the  mere 
ascetic,  as  Christian  charity  differs  from  selfishness.  Its  fruits 
demonstrate  the  genuineness  of  the  stock.  His  first  care  was, 
indeed,  to  have  his  own  *  heart  right  with  God ;'  but  he  was, 
at  the  same  time,  fertile  in  good  devices,  and  prompt  to  exe- 
cute them.  To  his  mother,  under  domestic  trials,  the  nature 
of  which,  though  not  indicated,  appears  to  have  caused  her 
bitterness  of  soul,  he  was  eminently  "  a  son  of  consolation." 
To  other  members  of  the  family  he  strove  to  be  useful.  The 
eye,  that  could  penetrate  the  walls  of  his  chamber,  might  have 
seen  him  conducting  a  younger  brother  to  the  throne  of  grace, 
kneeling  with  him  before  the  mercy-seat,  and  interceding  with 
God  for  his  salvation.  He  encountered  a  journey  for  the  ex- 
press purpose  of  visiting  an  early  friend,  of  whose  piety  he  had 
once  some  hope,  but  who,  he  feared,  had  now  become  indif- 
ferent to  the  one  thing  needful — that  he  might  know  his  state, 
and  encourage  him  to  seek  that  good  part,  which  could  not  be 
taken  from  him.  And  so  much  were  his  benevolent  feelings 
drawn  forth  towards  the  inhabitants  of  his  native  town,  that  he 
spared  no  suitable  exertions  for  their  spiritual  good.  A  revival 
of  religion  among  them  was  the  subject  of  fervent  prayer  ;  and 
in  the  same  object  he  endeavored  to  enlist  other  Christians.  He 
procured,  through  the  agency  of  his  mother,  the  institution  of 
a  weekly  meeting  of  female  members  of  the  church,  for  united 
prayer  that  the  work  of  God  might  be  revived.  In  short,  so 
far  was  he  from  being  bound  up  in  self,  that  he  exerted  him- 
self for  the  good  of  others  in  such  ways  as  were  proper  for 
one  in  a  state  of  pupilage. 

Even  in  the  most  distressing  parts  of  his  experience,  there 
are  discoverable  those  characteristics,  which  distinguish  it 
from  the  torturing  convictions  of  the  unrenewed  soul.  If  he 
is  in  "  a  sullen,  stupid  frame,"  it  is  not  without  "  some  melting 
desires  after  God."  If  he  is  well  nigh  *'  overcome  by  tempta- 
tion," it  is  that  he  may  '  rejoice  the  more  at  his  deliverance, 
when  God  gives  him  the  victory.'  If  he  is  *  discouraged  be- 
cause of  the  difficulties  of  the  way,  and  the  small  progress 
which  he  makes,'  just  as  *  all  hope  seems  departing,  the  fire 
burns  within  him.'  Uniformly,  his  war  is  with  himself,  and 
not  with  his  God.  And  if  to  2)rcvcnt  the  niglit-ioatches^  that 
he  might  meditate  in  God's  word ;  if  to  love  the  habitation  of 
his  house ^  and  the  place  where  his  honor  dwelleth  ;  if  to  ac- 
count himself  and  all  things  else  as  nothing  for  Christ's  sake ; 


68  MEMOIR  OF 

if  to  know  in  whom  he  has  believed,  and  to  draw  near  to  him 
in  full  assurance  of  failh  ;  if  to  be  satisfied  as  with  marrow 
and  fatness,  while  remembering  God  and  meditating  on  him  in 
the  night-watches  ;  if  to  prevent  the  daioning  of  the  morning 
by  the  cries  of  prayer ;  if  to  prefer  Jerusalem  above  one's 
chief  joy — are  scriptural  marks  of  piety ;  then  is  his  placed 
beyond  suspicion.  All  these,  and  more,  will  be  recognised  in 
the  extracts  from  his  journal,  with  which  this  chapter  con- 
cludes : — 

"  Sept.  29.  Had  a  most  transporting  view  of  God's  glory 
as  consisting  in  pure  holiness.  I  rejoiced  greatly  that  he 
reigned,  and  could  exalt  his  own  glory.  Henceforth,  I  will 
not  doubt  of  my  character  ;  for  I  know,  yea,  assuredly  know, 
that  I  love  God,  my  Saviour,  and  holiness. 

"  Oct.  19.  Sabbath.  Rose  with  thoughts  of  God  on  my 
mind.  Was  exceedingly  assisted  in  secret  and  in  family 
prayer.  Never  had  my  desires  and  affections  so  much  drawn 
out  after  God  and  holiness.  Was  filled  with  the  gracious  in- 
fluences of  the  Spirit,  so  that  I  rejoiced  with  joy  unspeakable 
and  full  of  glory.  Never  did  earth  appear  so  small,  heaven  so 
desirable,  the  Saviour  so  precious,  holiness  so  lovely,  God  so 
glorious,  as  now.  In  reading  the  Scriptures,  they  seemed  to 
open  with  a  clearness  and  force  which  delighted  and  astonish- 
ed me.  Such  a  sweet,  calm,  soul-satisfying  joy  I  never  felt 
before  in  so  great  a  degree.  Nothing  on  earth  seemed  worth 
a  serious  thought,  but  to  glorify  God.  Had  much  of  the  same 
temper  through  the  day.  Was  more  assisted  at  meeting  than 
ever  before.  In  the  evening,  had  a  clearer  sense  of  the  evil  of 
sin,  a  greater  hatred  of  it,  and  more  fixed  resolutions  against  it 
than  ever.  This  has  been  by  far  the  most  profitable  and  bless- 
ed day  to  my  soul,  that  I  ever  experienced.    God  be  praised ! 

"Or^.  25.  Was  much  depressed  with  a  view  of  the  nume- 
rous enemies  which  oppose  my  journey  heavenward.  Had  a 
faint  glimpse  of  Christ,  as  able  to  carry  me  through  in  spite  of 
all.  Never  before  had  such  a  clear  idea  of  the  passage — If 
the  righteous  scarcely  are  saved.  Seemed  to  be  plunged  in  a 
bottomless  ocean  of  sin  and  corruption,  from  which  no  efforts 
of  my  own  could  free  me. 

"  Nov.  2.  Sacramental  Sabbath.  Blessed  be  God,  who 
has  caused  his  loving  kindness  to  appear.  Enjoyed  much  as- 
sistance in  family  and  secret  prayer.  Was  enabled  to  drag 
my  sins  to  Christ,  beseeching  him  to  slay  them  for  me.  AS 
terwards,  enjoyed  great  sweetness  in  meditation.  Was  pre- 
served, in  some  measure,  from  wandering  thoughts  at  meet- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  6!) 

ing.  Had  a  profitable,  though  not  a  very  happy  time  at  com- 
munion. After  meeting,  \^s  favored  with  considerable  liberty 
in  family  and  secret  devotions. 

''Nov.  10.  Had  petitioned,  last  night,  that  I  might  awake 
at  a  given  hour  ;  my  petition  was  granted,*  and  I  was  assist- 
ed in  prayer.  Felt  my  dependence  on  God  for  strength. 
Was  surprisingly  favored  all  day.  Was  in  a  sweet,  humble 
frame.  I  admired  and  loved  the  work,  which  Christ  had 
wrought  in  my  heart  by  his  Spirit,  just  as  I  should  have  ad- 
mired it  in  any  other.  My  faith  seemed  to  be  unusually 
strong,  able  to  grapple  with  any  thing.  I  felt  all  day,  that  I 
depended  entirely  on  Christ  for  the  continuance  of  my 
strength. 

"  Nov.  18.  After  retiring  to  rest  last  night,  was  favored 
with  an  extraordinary  display  of  divine  grace.  I  rejoiced  that 
the  Lord  reigned,  that  Jesus  wste  exalted  far  above  principali- 
ties and  powers.  I  was  permitted  to  approach  very  near  him, 
and  to  plead  with  much  confidence  and  earnestness  for  myself 
and  others.  Waked  several  times  in  the  night  in  the  same 
frame.  In  the  morning,  was  favored  with  still  clearer  views, 
and  more  near  access  to  my  Saviour,  and  rejoiced  with  joy 
unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.  Could  not  find  words  to  utter 
my  praises  for  such  goodness.  Had,  too,  a  most  humiliating 
view  of  my  own  vile  and  odious  nature. 

"  Nov.  19.  My  gracious  God  is  still  loading  me  with  his 
unmerited  goodness.  His  mercies  follow  each  other,  as  wave 
follows  wave,  and  the  last  seems  ever  the  greatest.  This 
morning,  I  seem  to  enjoy  the  happiness  of  heaven. 

"iVby.  21.  Resolved  to  spend  this  day  in  fasting  and 
prayer  for  greater  measures  of  grace,  and  assistance  to  render 
me  more  humble  and  concerned  for  God's  glory ;  for  more 
love  to  God  and  his  people,  and  for  ministerial  qualifications. 
After  seeking  the  divine  presence,  for  which  I  was  enabled  to 
plead  with  great  earnestness,  and  a  feeling  sense  that  1  could 
do  nothing  without  it,  I  endeavored  to  recollect  and  confess 
my  sins.     I  saw  myself  exceedingly  vile,  seemed  the  chief  of 

*  Referring  to  an  alternative,  which  might  affect  his  temporal  comfort  mere- 
ly, and  not  his  usefulness,  Mr.  Payson  somewhere  says — ''  I  would  not  degrade 
prayer  so  much  as  to  make  it  the  subject  of  a  petition."  Those  who  think  he 
here  forgets  his  own  maxim,  should  know,  that  the  loss  of  his  morning  hours 
was  followed  by  a  day  of  comparative  usclessness  and  misery.  It  is,  howev- 
er, our  shame,  that  the  standard  of  personal  piety  should  now  render  necessa- 
ry an  apology  for  such  childlike  simplicity  in  the  devotions  of  a  man  of  his  ac- 
knowledged magnanimity.  In  nothing  does  he  appear  more  worthy  of  imita- 
tion, than  in  his  constant  recognition  of  a  Superintending  Providence;  and  in 
literally  acknowledging  God  in  all  his  ways. 


70  MEMOIR  OF 

sinners,  to  be  worse  than  the  evil  spirits,  and  thought  that  the 
lowest  place  in  hell  was  my  due.  ^  *  *  *  I  felt  the  most  ar- 
dent desire  for  God's  glory,  and  was  willing  to  be  a  stepping- 
stone,  or  any  thing,  however  mean,  to  promote  it.  To  be  a 
fellow-laborer  with  Christ,  in  the  glorious  work  of  bringing 
souls  to  him,  seemed  to  be  the  most  delightful  and  honorable  of 
all  offices  ;  and  in  this  service  I  felt  willing  to  spend  and  be 
spent ;  to  suffer  pain,  contempt,  and  death  itself  Felt  a  most 
intense  love  for  Christ's  people,  and  was  willing  to  be  below 
them  all. 

'^  Nov,  26.  As  soon  as  I  awoke,  felt  my  soul  go  forth  in 
longing  after  more  holiness,  and  promised  myself  much  com- 
fort in  prayer.  But  my  Lord  withdrew  himself,  and  I  could 
do  nothing.  Felt  convinced  that  it  was  a  dispensation  of  love 
for  my  good. 

"  Nov.  29.  Never  was  end!bled  to  plead  with  such  earnest- 
ness and  submission  before.  My  mouth  was  filled  with  argu- 
ments, and  I  seemed  to  have  both  my  Saviour  and  the  blessed 
Spirit  go  with  me,  and  plead  for  me  at  the  throne  of  grace. 
Was  favored  with  a  clear  view  of  my  Saviour's  beauty  and  ho- 
liness, and  of  the  scheme  of  salvation  by  him.  What  a  glori- 
ous design,  and  how  worthy  of  its  Author  ! 

"  Dec.  1.  Favored  wuth  an  uncommon  spirit  of  prayer. 
Saw  that,  as  a  member  of  Christ,  1  might  pray  with  as  much 
certainty  of  being  heard  as  Christ  himself  Was  enabled  to 
plead  his  merits,  sufferings,  death,  God's  gracious  promises, 
what  he  has  already  done  for  me,  the  operations  of  his  own 
Spirit,  and  his  own  conduct  in  hearing  others — as  reasons 
why  he  should  hear  me.  *•  *  *  Was  graciously  assisted  in 
pleading,  till  I  received  an  answer  of  peace.  Was  most 
sweetly  melted  with  a  view  of  the  love  of  the  blessed  Trinity, 
displayed  in  the  work  of  redemption,  and  the  vile,  ungrateful 
returns  I  had  made. 

''  Dec.  5.  Felt  a  full  persuasion,  that  my  present  dark, 
comfortless  state  is  only  designed  for  good,  to  teach  me  hu- 
mility, dependence,  and  weanedness  from  the  world ;  and  if  it 
has  this  effect,  I  welcome  it  with  joy. 

"  Dec.  6.  All  my  proud  and  selfish  feelings  seemed  to  be 
annihilated.  I  saw  and  rejoiced,  that  Jesus  had  no  need  of 
me,  and  that  he  would  be  praised  by  others,  if  not  by  me,  to 
all  eternity  ;  and,  provided  he  could  be  glorified,  I  cared 
not  how,  or  by  whom.  How  sweet  to  have  pride  and  self 
subdued  ! 

''  Dec.  9.  Determined  to  spend  this  day  in  fasting  and 
prayer  for  myself  and  the  advancement  of  religion  in  this 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  71 

place.  Had  great  and  special  assistance  last  evening,  and 
now,  in  pleading  for  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  here,  and  for 
help  in  the  duties  before  me.  After  thinking  over  my  mani- 
fold transgressions,  my  sins  against  light  and  love,  and  confess- 
ing them, — I  attempted  to  plead  my  Saviour's  death  and 
righteousness,  for  pardon  and  reconciliation.  I  could  not  ob- 
tain it,  but  was  for  three  hours  in  great  perplexity  and  distress, 
and  was  more  than  once  on  the  point  of  giving  up  in  despair. 
However,  I  was  enabled  to  continue  reading  the  Scriptures 
and  praying  till  afternoon,  when  the  cloud  dispersed,  and  my 
Saviour  shone  out  brighter  than  ever  before.  How  did  my 
soul  rejoice,  and  plead  for  sanctifying  grace  !  Was  exhaust- 
ed and  worn  out,  but  continued  praying,  or  trying  to  pray, 
till  night. 

"  Dec.  16.  Was  enabled  to  realize,  for  the  first  time  in 
my  life,  what  Christ  suffered,  and  for  what  a  wretch  he  suffer- 
ed. Was  so  overwhelmed  wdth  the  view,  that  I  could  not,  for 
some  time,  shed  a  tear.     O  how  hateful  did  sin  appear ! 

"  Dec.  17.  Was  much  assisted  in  writing  on  Christ's 
passion. 

'*  J«/i.  4,  1807.  Was  favored  with  a  spirit  of  prayer  be- 
yond all  my  former  experience.  I  was  in  great  agony,  and 
wrestled  both  for  myself  and  others  with  great  power.  God 
seemed  to  bow  the  heavens  and  come  down,  and  open  all  his 
treasures,  bidding  me  take  what  I  would. 

"  Jan.  6.  Was  not  favored  with  that  sweet  sense  of  pardon, 
which  1  usually  find  on  occasions  of  fasting  :  but  I  had  a 
quiet,  peaceful,  resigned  frame,  and  felt  none  of  those  repin- 
ing thoughts,  which  the  absence  of  sensible  comforts  is  apt  to 
excite. 

"  Jan.  20.  Was  amazingly  assisted  in  prayer  for  myself, 
parents,  friends,  and  a  revival  of  religion. 

"  Jan.  21.  Was  favored  with  the  clearest  views  of  the  glo- 
ry of  heaven,  as  consisting  in  holiness,  that  I  ever  had. 

"  Jan.  29.  Never  felt  such  longings  after  God,  or  such  a 
desire  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ.  My  soul  thirsted  for 
more  full  communion  with  my  God  and  Saviour.  I  do  not 
now  feel  satisfied,  as  I  used  to,  with  the  manifestations  of  the 
divine  presence,  but  still  feel  hungry  and  craving. 

"  Feh.  2.  Was  amazingly  given  up  to  wandering  imagina- 
tions. If  I  attempted  to  pray,  in  a  moment  my  thoughts  were 
in  the  ends  of  the  earth.  If  I  attempted  to  read  the  Bible,  eve- 
ry verse,  almost,  afforded  ground  of  doubt  and  cavilling.  This 
fully  convinced  me  that  Satan  is  able  to  make  me  doubt  even 
the  existence  of  God. 


72  BIEMOIR  OF 

"  Feb.  18.  Was  enabled  to  lie  at  Jesus'  feet,  and  to  wash 
them  with  the  tears  of  contrition.  No  pleasure  I  have  ever 
found  in  religion  superior  to  this. 

**  Feb.  20.  Resolved  to  spend  the  day  in  fasting,  and  had 
considerable  assistance.  Had  clearer  views  of  the  majesty, 
purity,  and  holiness  of  God,  than  usual,  and  this  made  me  ab- 
hor myself,  and  repent  in  dust  and  ashes. 

"  Feh.  28.  Was  favored  with  great  enlargement  in  prayer. 
Seemed  to  be  carried  out  of  myself  into  the  presence  of 
God. 

*^ March  2.  Seem  to  be  declining;  am  less  grateful,  less 
fervent,  than  I  was,  and  have  less  tenderness  of  spirit.  Yet  I 
am  less  apt  to  think  much  of  myself  than  I  was,  and  hope  I 
am  growing  in  humility.  This  seems  the  most  lovely  grace, 
and  most  becoming  sinners. 

"  March  7.  Were  it  not  for  the  promised  help  of  my  Sa- 
viour, I  would  think  no  more  of  preaching,  but  rather  labor 
for  daily  bread. 

"  3Iarch  12.  Never  appeared  so  exceedingly  vile  and 
loathsome  to  myself  as  I  did  this  day.  It  seemed  as  if  I  could 
not  endure  to  be  near  myself  No  words  could  express  any 
thing  like  the  sense  I  had  of  my  unworthiness.  It  seemed  as 
if  I  could  not,  for  shame,  ask  God  to  save  me.  I  felt  like 
sinking  into  the  dust,  in  the  idea  that  his  pure  eye  was  fixed 
upon  me,  and  that  saints  and  angels  saw  how  -vile  I  was. 

"  March  15.  Sabbath.  Rose  very  early,  and  was  favored 
with  sweet  fervency  and  communion  with  God  in  prayer. 
Went  to  bed,  and  lay  till  morning.  Enjoyed  great  liberty  in 
prayer  several  times  before  meeting. 

**  March  17.  Was  favored  with  a  peculiar  experience  this 
morning.  I  thought  I  knew  that  I  could  never  heal  myself 
before ;  but  I  was  made  to  know  it  in  a  different  manner  now. 
T  saw,  with  most  convincing  clearness,  that  neither  I,  nor  all 
created  beings,  could  do  the  least  thing  towards  delivering  me 
from  my  sinful  nature.  I  saw  that  I  depended  entirely  on  the 
free  mercy  of  God ;  and  that  there  was  no  reason  but  his  own 
good  pleasure,  why  he  should  ever  afford  me  that  assistance. 
Felt,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  what  the  apostle  meant  by 
"  groanings  which  cannot  be  uttered  ;"  and  my  desires  afler 
holiness  were  so  strong,  that  I  was  in  bodily  pain,  and  my 
soul  seemed  as  if  it  would  burst  the  bands  which  confined  it 
to  the  body. 

"  March  19.  [At  the  close  of  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer.] 
I  find  that,  even  when  the  spirit  is  willing,  the  flesh  is 
weak.     No  days  are  so  fatiguing  as  those  which  are  spent  in 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  73 

fervent  and  continual  exercises  of  religion.  It  icill  not  he  so 
in  heaven. 

"  March  26.  Spent  the  day  in  fasting  and  prayer.  Was 
favored  with  near  access  to  my  heavenly  Father,  and  a  real- 
izing sense  of  his  perfections.  O  how  sweetly  was  I  enabled 
to  praise  and  admire  his  love  and  goodness  in  his  works  ! 

^^  March  31.  Spent  this  day  fasting,  but  not  in  prayer  ;  for 
I  could  not  put  up  a  single  petition.  Was  entirely  deserted, 
and  was  ready  to  say.  Surely  it  is  in  vain  to  seek  after  God. 
I  could  not  see  that  I  had  advanced  one  step  in  holiness,  and 
was  ready  to  think  I  never  should ;  yet  could  think  of  nothing 
else  worth  pursuing  or  living  for.  Doubted  whether  it  were 
possible  that  I  should  know  any  thing  of  true  religion,  and  yet 
be  so  entirely  barren. 

"  April  7.  In  fasting  and  prayer,  was  favored  with  much 
of  a  spirit  of  supplication.  I  now  seem  to  be  lifted  above 
those  discouraging,  desponding  doubts,  which  have  for  some 
time  clogged  my  soul.     No  good  comes  of  doubting,  or  op 

BROODING  OVER  OUR  SINS. 

^^  April  14.  Spent  this  day  in  fasting  and  prayer.  Was 
wholly  deserted,  except  that  I  saw  more  of  my  natural  deprav- 
ity, and  the  consequent  pollution  of  all  my  duties,  than  ever 
before.  Saw  more,  too,  of  the  glory  and  greatness  of  the  work 
of  redemption,  than  I  had  previously. 

^^  April  22.  '  Spent  this  day  in  fasting  and  prayer.  At  first 
was  stupid  ;  but  soon  God  was  pleased  to  lift  up  the  light  of 
his  countenance  upon  me,  and  visit  me  with  his  free  Spirit. 

0  how  infinitely  glorious  and  lovely  did  God  in  Christ  appear ! 

1  saw,  I  felt,  that  God  was  mine,  and  I  his,  and  was  unspeak- 
ably happy.  Now,  if  ever,  I  enjoyed  communion  with  God. 
He  shone  sweetly  upon  me,  and  I  reflected  back  his  beams  in 
fervent,  admiring,  adoring  love.  Had  a  most  ravishing  view 
of  the  glories  of  heaven,  of  the  ineffable  delight  with  which 
the  Lord  Jesus  beholds  the  happiness  which  he  has  purchased 
with  his  own  blood." 

7 


74  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  V. 

His  state  of  mind  in  the  immediate  prospect  of  the  ministry. 

The  time  now  drew  near,  when  Mr.  Payson  was  to  receive 
license,  agreeably  to  Congregational  usage,  to  preach  the  gos- 
pel. His  spirituality  appears  to  have  increased  as  that  inter- 
esting era  of  his  life  approached.  Most  sensibly  did  he  feel 
that  he  *  was  no  longer  his  own,  but  bought  with  a  price,'  and 
'  called  by  grace  to  serve  God  in  the  gospel  of  his  Son.'  *  The 
world  was  crucified  to  him,  and  he  to  the  world.'  His  piety 
was  distinguished  by  more  frequent  acts  of  self-dedication  to 
God, — not  by  short  ejaculations  and  a  general  surrender  mere- 
ly, but  with  great  dehberation,  attended  by  a  minute  survey  of 
the  relations  of  the  creature  to  the  Creator,  and  of  the  obliga- 
tions recognised  and  assumed  by  such  a  consecration.  Hap- 
pily, one  specimen  of  the  manner  in  which  he  gave  himself  up 
is  preserved  ;  and,  though  it  describes  the  secret  dealings  of 
the  soul  with  its  God,  it  is  hoped  that  it  will  not  be  desecrated 
by  being  brought  out  to  the  light.  If,  however,  the  reader 
never  felt  the  awe  which  is  created  by  a  consciousness  of  the 
divine  presence — if  he  never  experienced  the  emotions  of  an 
ancient  pilgrim,  when,  preparing  for  a  similar  transaction,  he 
exclaimed,  *'  How  dreadful  is  this  place!" — he  is  urgently  re- 
quested to  pause.  If  he  is  conscious  of  any  other  feelings  than 
those  of  profound  solemnity,  let  him  leave  this  chapter  unread. 
In  it  he  will  find  nothing  with  which  a  mind  given  to  levity, 
or  vanity,  or  pride,  can  possibly  sympathize.  If  he  ventures  to 
proceed,  he  will  be  met  at  the  threshold,  if  not  by  *  a  drawn 
sword  in  the  hand  of  the  Captain  of  the  Lord's  host,'  by  that 
which  is  scarcely  less  appalling  to  an  earthly  mind,  and  which 
will  render  almost  equally  appropriate  the  order  addressed  to 
Israel's  leader — "  Loose  thy  shoe  from  off  thy  foot ;  for  the 
place  whereon  thou  standest  is  holy." 

^^  May  1,  1807.  Having  set  apart  this  day  for  fasting  and 
prayer,  preparatory  to  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  supper,  I 
rose  early,  and  sought  the  divine  presence  and  blessing,  in  which 
I  was  favored  with  fervency  and  freedom.  My  petition  was, 
that  I  might  be  enabled  to  see  my  own  character,  contrasted 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  75 

with  the  purity  of  God,  and  his  holy,  just,  and  good  law  ;  that 
I  might  be  assisted  in  renewing  covenant  with  God,  and  in 
giving  myself  up  to  him,  and  that  I  might  be  favored  with 
ministerial  qualifications.     After  this,  I  drew  up  the  following 

CONFESSION  AND  FORM  OF  COVENANT. 

"  O  thou  High  and  Holy  One,  that  inhabitest  eternity,  whose 
name  alone  is  Jehovah, — who  art  the  one,  great,  eternal,  ever- 
blessed  God,  before  whom  angels  bow  and  devils  tremble,  and 
in  whose  sight  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  are  less  than  nothing 
and  vanity  ! — wilt  thou  graciously  condescend,  in  thy  sove- 
reign and  infinite  goodness,  to  look  down  from  thy  throne  of 
glory  on  me,  the  most  unworthy  of  thy  creatures,  a  poor,  weak, 
sinful,  vile,  and  polluted  wretch,  to  behold  me  with  mercy  and 
compassion,  and  permit  me,  lying  prostrate  in  the  dust  before 
thee,  to  address  thee  as  my  God,  my  Father,  my  Creator,  my 
Benefactor,  my  Friend  and  Redeemer ! 

"  O  Lord,  I  would  come  with  a  heart  broken  and  contrite 
for  sin,  acknowledging  myself  unworthy  of  the  least  of  all  thy 
mercies,  and  deserving  nothing  at  thine  hand  but  everlastmg 
banishment  from  thee  and  happiness.  Encouraged  by  thine 
own  gracious  promises,  I  would  come,  and,  with  humble  con- 
fidence, take  hold  on  the  hope  set  before  me,  even  thine  ever- 
lasting covenant,  which  is  ordered  in  all  things  and  sure.  But, 
O  God,  what  am  I,  that  I  should  be  called  thy  son,  that  I 
should  call  thee  my  Father,  or  that  thou  shouldst  enter  into 
covenant  with  me  ?  I  blush,  and  am  ashamed  even  to  lift  up 
my  face  unto  thee,  O  my  Father  ;  for  I  have  sinned  against 
thee,  and  am  exceeding  vile  ;  vile  beyond  what  language  can 
describe  or  thought  conceive.  My  iniquities  are  gone  over  my 
head  ;  they  are  increased  even  to  the  heavens  ;  they  are  infi- 
nite in  number,  in  degree  and  aggravation,  and  can  be  equal- 
led only  by  thy  mercies,  which  have  been  new  every  moment. 
Thou,  O  God,  hast  given  me  life,  and  dost  still  preserve  me 
in  existence.  Thou  hast  given  me  faculties  which  render  me 
capable  of  knowing,  serving,  loving,  worshipping,  and  enjoy- 
ing thee.  Thou  hast  placed  me  in  this  Christian  land,  and 
given  me  the  knowledge  of  thee,  myself,  and  my  duty,  while 
thousands  of  my  fellow-creatures  are  lefi:  in  darkness.  Thou 
hast  placed  me  in  that  situation  in  life  which  is  most  favorable 
to  virtue,  contentment,  and  happiness,  and  hast  given  me  pa- 
rents tender  and  affectionate,  who  early  devoted  me  to  thee, 
and  taught  me  to  lisp  thy  name,  and  to  know  thy  precepts. 
Through  their  means  thou  hast  given  me  opportunities  of  im- 


76  MEMOIR  OF 

proving  those  faculties  I  have  received  from  thee,  and  thus 
rendering  myself  more  fit  to  serve  thee.  But  above  all,  O  my 
God,  thou  hast  given  me  an  interest  in  thy  Son,  and  in  all  the 
blessings  he  has  purchased.  Thou  hast  given  me  the  Spirit 
of  adoption,  whereby  I  am  enabled  to  cry,  Abba,  Father. 
Thou  hast  given  me  thy  precious  grace  in  this  world,  as  an 
earnest  of  glory  in  the  next.  Thou  hast  also  loaded  me  with 
daily  and  hourly  m.ercies,  more  than  I  can  number.  Thou 
hast  kept  me  with  more  than  parental  care.  Thou  hast  pre- 
served me  in  sickness,  protected  me  from  dangers,  shielded 
me  while  awake,  watched  over  me  in  sleep,  supported  me  in 
trials,  strengthened  me  in  weakness,  succored  me  in  tempta- 
tions, comforted  me  in  afflictions,  and  defended  me  against 
mighty  and  numberless  enemies.  Thou  hast  overwhelmed 
me  with  thy  mercies  ;  my  cup  runneth  over.  Thy  goodness 
and  thy  mercy  have  followed  me  all  the  days  of  my  life. 

**  Yet  against  all  this  goodness  I  have  rebelled,  have  reward- 
ed thee  evil  for  good  ;  thy  mercies  have  only  aggravated  my 
guilt.  O,  my  God,  what  have  I  done  !  What  madness,  what 
obstinacy,  what  ingratitude  has  possessed  me  !  My  sins  have 
run  parallel  with  thy  mercies.  I  have  struck  and  w^ounded 
the  hand  that  made  me,  fed  me,  preserved  me.  I  have  wast- 
ed in  sin  and  folly  the  life  thou  gavest  me.  I  have  perverted 
those  faculties  I  received  from  thy  goodness  in  dishonoring 
thee,  and  in  disobeying  thy  commands.  I  was  shapen  in  sin, 
and  brouglit  forth  in  iniquity.  My  understanding  is  darkened 
and  alienated  from  the  truth ;  my  will  is  stubborn  and  per- 
verse ;  my  affections  are  corrupted  and  depraved ;  and  every 
imagination  of  the  thoughts  of  my  heart  has  been  evil,  only 
and  continually  evil.  My  carnal  mind  has  been  enmity  against 
thee,  and  has  not  been  in  subjection  to  thy  righteous  and  holy 
law.  From  this  corrupt  and  bitter  fountain  have  proceeded 
innumerable  bitter,  polluting  streams.  Though  I  was  early 
taught  thy  will,  I  neglected  to  perform  it.  I  have  broken  all 
thy  commands,  times  without  number.  My  words,  thoughts, 
and  actions,  have  been  sinful.  I  have  gone  astray  from  my 
youth  up. 

''  And  even  after  thou  didst  take  pity  upon  me,  when  I  was 
cast  out,  polluted,  to  perish  in  my  blood — after  thou  didst  re- 
ceive me,  a  poor,  wretched  prodigal,  and  didst  cause  thy  won- 
drous goodness  and  mercy  to  pass  before  me,  I  have  still  con- 
tinued to  weary  thee  with  my  sins,  and  cause  thee  to  serve 
with  mine  iniquities.  I  have  broken  that  solemn  covenant  by 
which  I  bound  myself  to  be  thine.  I  have  indulged  an  evil 
heart  of  unbelief,  in  departing  from  the  living  God,  and  have 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  77 

in  all  things  dealt  very  treacherously.  How  often  have  I  mock- 
ed thee  with  solemn  words  on  a  thoughtless  tongue  !  How 
have  I  neglected  thy  word,  profaned  thine  ordinances,  broken 
thy  law,  and  resisted  thy  grace  !  How  little  of  a  filial  temper 
have  I  felt  to  thee,  my  Father  !  Hov/  little  gratitude  to  thee, 
blessed  Saviour  !  How  often  have  I  g  ieved  thee,  O  Holy 
Spirit,  by  whom  I  am  sealed  to  the  day  of  redemption  !  When 
thou  liftest  upon  me  the  light  of  thy  countenance,  I  grow  proud, 
carnal,  and  secure ;  and  when  thou  leavest  me  in  darkness, 
when  my  own  foolishness  perverteth  my  way,  then  my  proud 
heart  fretteth  against  thee,  the  Lord.  All  my  duties  are  pollu- 
ted with  innumerable  sins,  and  are  as  a  leprous  garment  before 
thee.  And,  after  all  thou  hast  done  for  me,  I  am  still  encom- 
passed about  with  innumerable  evils.  Pride,  unbelief,  selfish- 
ness, lust,  anger,  hatred,  malice,  revenge,  bitterness,  slothful- 
ness,  vanity,  love  of  the  world,  ignorance,  formality,  hypocrisy, 
and,  with  all  these,  self-conceit,  are  still  the  inhabitants,  if  not 
the  lords,  of  my  heart.  And,  as  thou,  O  Lord,  knowest,  these 
are  not  the  ten  thousandth  part  of  my  sins  and  iniquities ;  so 
that  I  am  the  chief  of  sinners,  and  the  least  of  all  saints.  *  *  * 

"  O  wretched  man  that  I  am  !  Who  shall  deliver  me  from 
this  body  of  death  ?  Vain,  O  Lord,  thou  knowest,  are  my 
endeavors,  and  vain  is  the  help  of  man.  I  have  ruined  myself, 
and  in  thee  alone,  and  in  thy  mercy,  is  my  hope. 

"To  this  mercy,  against  which  I  have  so  often  sinned,  would 
I  flee  for  refuge,  and,  laying  my  hand  on  my  mouth,  and  my 
mouth  in  the  dust,  cry.  Unclean  !  unclean  !  True,  Lord,  I 
have  sinned  ;  but  with  thee  there  is  mercy,  with  thee  there  is 
plenteous  redemption.  Thou,  thou,  art  he,  who  blottest  out 
our  iniquities  for  thine  own  sake,  and  wilt  not  remember  our 
sins  against  us.  The  blood  of  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin, 
and  to  this  would  I  flee  for  refuge.  In  him  do  I  put  my  trust; 
O  let  me  not  be  ashamed.  Let  me  plead  before  thee  the  mer- 
its of  thy  Son,  and  put  thee  in  mind  of  thy  gracious  promises, 
that  I  may  be  justified.  In  his  name,  and  as  an  unworthy 
member  of  his  mystical  body,  would  I  come,  and  renew  before 
thee  that  covenant  which  I  have  broken,  and  bind  myself  to 
be  thine  forever.  And  do  thou,  for  his  sake,  O  God,  assist 
me  ;   for  in  thee  is  my  strength. 

"  Relying  on  this  strength  for  support,  and  confessing  myself 
guilty  of  all  these  and  innumerable  other  offences,  and  that  I 
deserve,  in  justice,  nothing  but  the  lowest  hell,  and  renouncing 
the  destructive  ways  of  sin, — I  do,  with  my  whole  heart  and 
soul,  in  a  most  serious,  solemn,  and  deliberate  manner,  choose 

and  take  the  Lord  Jehovah  to  be  my  God  and  Father,  cheer- 

7# 


78  MEMOIR  OF 

fully  and  joyfully  renewing  all  my  past  engagements ;  and,  in 
humble  dependence  on  his  grace,  I  engage  to  fear  him,  and 
cleave  to  him  in  love.  And  I  do,  most  freely,  give  up  myself, 
my  interests,  for  time  and  for  eternity,  my  soul  and  body,  my 
friends  and  possessions,  and  all  that  I  have,  to  his  wise,  just, 
and  sovereign  disposal.  Especially  do  I  devote  myself  to  him 
in  the  service  of  the  ministry,  beseeching  him  to  place  me  in 
that  situation  in  which  I  shall  most  glorify  him.  And  wilt 
thou,  O  most  gracious  and  condescending  God,  accept  this 
offering  of  thy  creature,  who  can  give  thee  nothing  but  what 
he  has  first  received. 

"  With  equal  joy  and  readiness,  and  in  the  same  serious 
and  solemn  manner,  do  I  choose  and  embrace  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  to  be  my  only  Saviour.  I  take  him  in  all  his  offices — 
as  my  Priest,  to  make  atonement  for  all  my  offences — as  my 
Prophet,  to  guide,  teach,  enlighten  and  instruct  me — as  my 
King,  to  rule  in  and  reign  over  me.  I  take  him  as  the  great 
Head  of  influences,  from  whom  alone  I  can  receive  all  needed 
supplies  of  grace  and  assistance. 

''I  do  also  take  the  Holy  Spirit  of  all  grace  and  consolation 
to  be  my  Sanctifier,  and  promise  not  to  grieve  him,  or  to  slight 
his  warnings. 

"And,  O  my  God,  what  shall  I  more  say?  what  can  I  ask, 
since  I  am  thine,  and  thou  art  mine ;  mine,  for  time ;  mine, 
for  eternity  ?  O  my  God,  I  w^ant  nothing  but  to  be  wholly 
thine.  I  would  plead  thy  promise  for  a  new  heart  and  a  right 
spirit.  O  write  this  covenant  on  my  heart,  and  put  thy  fear 
there,  that  I  may  not  depart  from  thee.  May  I  be  made  an 
able,  faithful,  and  successful  minister  of  the  New  Testament. 
May  the  life  and  concerns,  which  I  have  now  devoted  to  thee, 
be  employed  in  thy  service ;  and  may  I,  at  length,  be  brought 
to  the  full  enjoyment  of  thee  in  glory,  through  infinite  riches  of 
redeeming  love. 

"As  a  testimony  of  my  sincere  and  hearty  consent  to  this 
covenant,  of  my  hope  and  desire  to  receive  the  blessings  of  it, 
and  as  a  swift  witness  against  me  if  I  depart  from  it ;  I  do  now, 
before  God  and  the  holy  angels,  subscribe  with  my  hand  unto 
the  Lord.  Edward  Payson. 

"  And  may  this  covenant  be  ratified  in  heaven.  And  do  thou 
remember,  O  my  soul,  that  the  vows  of  God  are  upon  thee. 

"  Having  drawn  up  the  above  covenant,  I  spread  it  before 
the  Lord ;  and  after  confession  of  sins,  and  seeking  pardon 
through  the  blood  of  Christ,  I  did  solemnly  accept  it  before 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  79 

him,  as  my  free  act  and  deed ;  and  embraced  Christ  in  it,  as 
the  only  ground  of  my  hope.  I  then  pleaded  for  all  covenant- 
ed blessings,  and  was  favored  with  great  fervency  and  enlarge- 
ment in  prayer.  An  indisposition,  which  attended  me  through 
the  day,  rendered  it  less  profitable  than  usual ;  yet  I  have 
abundant  reason  to  bless  God  for  the  measure  of  assistance  I 
received.  I  felt  the  most  longing,  intense,  and  insatiable  de- 
sires after  holiness,  and  to  be  employed  in  promoting  the  divine 
glory.  The  world,  with  its  applause,  seemed  nothing  in  com- 
parison with  the  approbation  of  God.  Existence  seemed  worth 
possessing  only  as  it  could  be  employed  in  praising  him." 

Before  the  reader  sits  in  judgment  on  the  transaction  now 
recorded,  and  especially  on  the  manner  in  which  it  was  con- 
ducted ;  before  he  censures  the  vows,  by  which  the  covenan- 
ter bound  his  soul,  as  too  strong,  the  surrender  as  too  complete 
and  exclusive,  or  the  terms  in  which  it  is  done  as  extravagant, 
— let  him  inquire  of  his  own  heart,  whether  he  has  duly  con- 
sidered the  claims  of  the  great  Jehovah,  and  treated  these 
claims  as  a  real  servant  of  God,  a  true  disciple  of  Christ.  Even 
under  his  *^easy  yoke,"  the  terms  of  the  relation  are,  'Except 
ye  forsake  all,  ye  cannot  be  my  disciples.'  And  if  "no  man 
can  serve  two  masters,"  we  have  no  alternative,  but  to  give  up 
ourselves  to  God  without  reserve,  or  be  disowned  by*  him.  How- 
ever solemn  the  act,  that  can  be  neither  unreasonable  nor  im- 
proper, which  our  Father  in  heaven  requires.  When  we  enter 
upon  an  enumeration  of  all  that  is  comprised  in  dedicating 
one's  self  to  God,  we  may  well  be  filled  with  awe,  and  trem- 
blingly alive  to  the  danger  of  failing  to  perform  our  vows ;  but 
to  withhold  the  offering,  savors  more  of  unbelief,  of  a  self- 
ish and  rebellious  heart,  than  of  a  wise  caution,  or  a  filial 
temper. 

There  is  a  class  of  persons,  to  whom  the  confessions  in  the 
above  instrument  will  appear  revolting,  and  by  whom  they  will 
be  stigmatized  as  religious  affectation.  He  speaks  of  his  sins  as 
*  infinite  in  number,  degree,  and  aggravation.'  The  Christian, 
whose  *  sins  have  been  set  in  order  before  him,'  sees  no  hyper- 
bole in  such  language ;  and  if  it  should  meet  the  eyes  of  others, 
they  are  referred  for  an  explanation,  so  far  as  it  can  be  appre- 
ciated without  Christian  experience,  to  the  seventh  sermon  in 
the  posthumous  volume  of  his  discourses.  Even  'the  natural 
man' -may  there  'discern'  enough  to  acquit  the  author  of  incon- 
sistency ;  and  it  is  no  more  than  an  act  of  common  justice  to 
allow  him  to  be  his  own  expositor. 

In  this  and  other  places,  he  descends  to  specifications  of 
Bins  in  terms  which  may  be  thought  applicable  to  none  but  a 


80  MEMOIR  OF 

monster  of  wickedness ;  and  yet  they  are  the  judgment  passed 
on  himself  by  a  man  always  and  universally  respected  for  the 
correctness  and  purity  of  his  morals.  His  *  pride'  never  look- 
ed with  disdain  upon  the  meanest  fellow-creature ;  his  *  malice' 
and  *  revenge*  never  inflicted  actual  injury ;  and  of  any  out- 
breakings  of  the  baser  and  more  degrading  passions,  he 
stands  unindicted  by  all  except  himself  Nor  were  these  hu- 
miliating confessions,  this  extraordinary  self-abasement,  made 
to  attract  notice,  and  give  himself  importance  in  the  eyes  of 
others — one  of  the  very  v/orst  and  most  odious  forms  in  which 
pride  operates — for  to  them  no  mortal  was  ever  privy.  They 
were  not  known  to  a  fellow-creature,  till  since  he  dropped  the 
clods  of  mortality.  They  describe  what  he  appeared  to  him- 
self to  be  in  the  immediate  presence  of  the  perfectly  holy  and 
heart-searching  God.  Still,  many  will  repeat  the  question — If 
he  alludes  to  no  crimes,  with  which  every  man  might  not  with 
equal  propriety  charge  himself,  whence  the  justice  or  truth  of 
the  charges  1  Here  again  he  shall  be  his  own  interpreter.  Let 
those  who  are  oppressed  with  this  difficulty  carefully  read  his  ser- 
mon, entitled,  Sins  estimated  by  the  Light  of  Heaven,  and  they 
will  find  a  full  and  satisfactory  solution.  This,  and  the  sermon 
just  alluded  to,  will  furnish  a  key  to  the  true  import  of  much 
of  the  language  which  he  employs,  in  describing  the  darker 
and  more  distressing  parts  of  his  experience. 

The  effects  of  his  severe  regimen  and  night  vigils  on  his 
health,  had  already  begun  to  appear,  and  were  somewhat 
aggravated  by  a  bodily  injury  which  he  received  about  this 
time.  The  circumstances  are  said  to  have  been  these :  He 
had  accompanied  his  father  and  another  clergyman  to  an  ordi- 
nation. On  their  return,  as  he  was  feasting  his  mind  with 
such  meditations  as  the  scenery  and  the  occasion  suggested, 
they  out-rode  him.  His  horse,  being  left  principally  to  his 
own  guidance,  by  suddenly  leaping  a  brook,  brought  his  rider 
to  the  ground,  whose  right  shoulder  was  dislocated  by  the 
shock.  A  partial  faintness  succeeded,  from  which  he  was  re- 
covered by  bathing  his  temples  with  water  from  the  stream. 
Attempting,  in  this  disabled  condition,  to  regain  the  saddle, 
by  leaping  from  a  neighboring  fence,  he  was  precipitated 
over  the  horse  to  the  ground,  and  the  bone  was  restored 
to  its  place  by  the  fall.  In  after  life,  it  was  often  displaced, 
and  sometimes  in  circumstances  not  a  little  embarrassing  and 
distressing ;  and  for  many  months  before  his  death,  and  even 
before  he  ceased  to  appear  in  the  pulpit,  that  arm  hung  use- 
less by  his  side.  From  this  time,  the  state  of  his  health  is  the 
subject  of  frequent  allusion,  as  may  be  seen  from  his  journal, 
parts  of  which,  for  several  successive  days,  are  subjoined,  bring- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  81 

ing  down  his  history  to  the  date  of  his  license  to  preach  the 
gospel : — 

'^May  2.  Was  exceedingly  weak  through  the  day,  both  in 
body  and  mind,  and  was  enabled  to  do  little  or  nothing.  Could 
only  wish  and  sigh. 

"  May  3.  Sacrament.  Had  considerable  flow  of  affections, 
but  seemed  to  want  clearness  and  spirituality.  In  the  after- 
noon, was  more  dead  and  trifling.  So  far  as  I  can  judge  from 
my  feelings,  have  got  little  good  by  this  opportunity.  Felt 
deeply  oppressed  with  guilt  after  meeting,  but  could  not  mourn 
over  my  sin,  as  I  would  fain  have  done,  nor  could  I  obtain  any 
sense  of  divine  love.  But  after  a  short  time,  my  compassionate 
Saviour  was  pleased  to  melt  my  soul  with  a  look  of  love,  and 
I  felt  sweetly  humbled  and  contrite  for  sin.  Although  I  had 
carelessly  let  down  my  watch,  yet  in  the  evening  he  was  pleas- 
ed to  return,  and  give  me  the  sweetest  humbling  season  I  ever 
enjoyed.  I  never  felt  so  vile,  so  insignificant,  so  like  nothing, 
so  emptied  of  self  And  when  I  was  thus  empty,  he  was  pleas- 
ed to  fill  me  with  himself;  so  that  I  was  burnt  up*  with  most 
intense  love,  and  pantings  after  holiness.  Never  before  had  I 
such  faith  and  fervency  in  prayer.  I  was  as  happy  as  nature 
could  sustain,  and  could  only  say — Blessed  Jesus !  this  is  thy 
work.  See  my  happiness.  It  proceeds  from  thee !  This  is 
the  fi-uit  of  thy  travail  of  soul.  Renewed  my  covenant,  and 
gave  up  my  whole  soul,  with  all  its  powers,  to  God  as  my  Fa- 
ther, Christ  as  my  Saviour,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  as  my  Sancti- 
fier.  Had  another  sweet  season  in  prayer ;  but  was  assaulted 
by  spiritual  pride.     I  see  frowns  are  necessary  for  me. 

^^  May  4.  Was  less  favored  this  morning  than  last  even- 
ing; but  had  some  assistance.  Was  aided  in  writing,  but 
greatly  oppressed  with  pride  and  vanity,  which  made  their  at- 
tacks upon  me  in  inexpressible  shapes,  while  I  could  do  nothing. 

^' May  5.  Spent  this  day  in  the  woods,  in  fasting  and 
prayer,  with  a  view  to  obtain  mortification  of  my  abominable 
pride  and  selfishness.  Was  favored  with  much  fervency  and 
enlargement  the  former  part  of  the  day,  but  was  afterward 
much  deserted  ;  seemed  to  make  no  advances  in  holiness ;  to 
be  of  no  advantage  to  the  world,  and  unfit  to  live. 

^  This  expression  may  at  first  glance  strike  the  reader  as  extravagant  j  and 
yet,  by  consulting  John  ii.  17,  he  will  find  an  almost  exact  parallel — The  zeal 
of  thine  house  hath  eaten  me  up.  So  inwrought  into  Mr.  Payson's  mental  habits 
were  the  Scriptures  of  truth,  that  he  thought,  breathed,  and  spoke,  in  their  man- 
ner Those,  however,  will,  or  ou^ht  to  be,  the  last  to  complain,  who  can  re- 
solve all  the  characteristic  expressions  and  peculiar  doctrines  of  the  JBible  into 
*'  strong  eastern  figures." 


82  MEMOIR  OF 

'*  May  6.  Had  some  freedom  in  prayer.  Felt  very  feeble, 
and  unfit  for  study  ;  but,  praying  that  Christ's  strength  might 
be  made  perfect  in  my  weakness,  I  was  helped  to  write  more 
than  usual. 

''  May  7.  Out  of  order  both  in  body  and  mind.  Did  little 
in  my  study,  and  had  little  freedom  in  prayer. 

"  May  8.  Had  some  life  and  fervency  this  morning ;  but 
was  exercised  with  wandering  thoughts.  Could  do  little  all 
day. 

"  May  9.  Was  much  perplexed  with  some  business  with 
"****,  so  that  I  could  neither  read  nor  pray,  any  more  than  I 
could  remove  a  mountain.  This  was  made  useful  to  me.  I 
saw  by  it  the  weakness  of  my  graces,  and  learned  to  judge 
more  favorably  of  those  Christians  who  are  exposed  to  the 
temptations  of  the  world.  It  showed  me  also  my  need  of  di- 
vine help  more  clearly  than  ever.  Were  I  exposed  to  the 
same  temptations,  I  should  lose  all  sense  of  divine  things  with- 
out greater  supports  than  I  ever  had. 

"  May  10.  Was  very  unwell,  and  could  neither  eat,  read, 
nor  pray.     Was  excessively  melancholy. 

"  May  11.  Was  still  more  oppressed  with  melancholy,  and 
felt  even  more  miserable.  *********  ^j^s  ashamed 
of  my  selfishness  and  ingratitude  in  despising  the  blessings  God 
had  given  me.  Remained  very  wretched,  and  unable  to  do 
any  thing.     In  the  evening,  had  some  relief 

"  May  12.  Was,  if  possible,  still  more  gloomy  and  depress- 
ed than  yesterday.  Seemed  unfit  to  preach,  and  even  to  do 
any  thing.  Could  only  wander  about  from  place  to  place, 
seeking  rest,  and  finding  none.  In  the  evening,  a  person  ar- 
rived from  Marlborough,  inviting  me  to  come  and  preach  four 
Sabbaths.  After  putting  up  a  short  but  sincere  petition,  that 
I  might  not  be  left  to  my  own  guidance,  and  asking  the  ad- 
vice of  my  father,  I  promised  to  go.  Retired,  and  cast  my- 
self upon  the  Lord  for  support,  with  a  deep  sense  of  my  own 
utter  insuflSciency. 

**  May  13.  Having  set  apart  this  day  for  fasting  and 
prayer,  with  reference  to  entering  on  the  work  of  the  ministry, 
I  sought  the  divine  presence  and  blessing,  in  which  I  was 
much  assisted.  Renewed  covenant  with  God,  and  gave  my- 
self up  to  him  for  the  work  of  the  ministry.  Was  helped  to 
plead  with  far  more  earnestness  than  ever  before,  and,  indeed, 
with  as  much  as  my  nature  could  support,  or  was  capable  of, 
and  this  repeatedly  during  the  day. 

"  May  14-  Was  very  unwell,  and  apprehensive  of  a  nervous 
fever.     Could  not  read  the  most  amusing  books  without  wea- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  83 

riness  and  distraction  ;  and  my  body  was  so  weak,  that  I  could 
exercise  but  very  little.  Yet,  by  divine  goodness,  was  preserv- 
ed in  a  quiet,  submissive  frame. 

"  May  15.  Was  better,  and  had  some  sweetness  in  secret 
devotion.  Went  to  see  an  old  man  who  has  been  converted 
in  his  old  age.  Found  him  full  of  affection,  and  possessing 
remarkably  clear  views  of  God  and  divine  things,  though  in 
other  respects  weak  and  illiterate.  Was  somewhat  refreshed 
with  his  conversation. — P.  M.  Forced  to  make  a  visit,  but  help- 
ed to  introduce  religious  conversation. 

"  May  16.  Felt  very  lifeless  in  the  morning ;  but  in  se- 
cret prayer,  it  pleased  God  to  enliven  me.  In  the  evening,  was 
favored  with  equal,  or  greater  degrees  of  fervency.  My  soul 
was  suddenly  humbled  and  broken  for  sin.  I  seemed  to  be 
much  the  least  of  all  saints ;  and  my  very  soul  panted  for  God 
and  holiness,  as  the  hunted  hart  for  the  water-brook.  Blessed 
be  God  for  this  day. 

''May  17.  Sabbath,  A.  M.  Very  dull  and  lifeless  ;  but  in 
secret  prayer,  the  cloud  was  removed,  and  I  found  unspeak- 
able delight  in  drawing  near  to  God,  and  casting  myself 
upon  him.  Christ  appeared  inconceivably  precious,  and  I 
longed,  with  most  intense  desire,  to  devote  myself  to  him, 
and  to  be  like  him.  I  could  not  but  rejoice  with  joy  unspeaka- 
ble and  full  of  glory,  to  think  that  God  in  Christ  was,  and 
would  be,  infinitely  and  unchangeably  glorious  and  happy. 
In  Christ  I  beheld  such  fulness  and  sufficiency,  that  all  my 
late  tormenting  fears  respecting  being  qualified  for  the  minis- 
try, and  assisted  in  it,  vanished.  In  the  evening,  was  over- 
whelmed with  a  view  of  my  remaining  corruptions,  and  espe- 
cially of  my  pride ;  so  that  I  was  in  a  perfect  agony,  and  could 
scarcely  support  it.  I  was  just  ready  to  despair,  and  give  up 
all  future  striving  as  vain  ;  but  I  fled  to  Christ,  and  poured  out 
all  my  sorrows  into  his  bosom,  and  he  graciously  pitied  me, 
and  strengthened  me  with  might  in  my  soul.  I  found  un- 
speakable relief  in  telling  him  all  my  sorrows  and  difficulties. 
O,  he  is  wonderfully,  inconceivably  gracious ! 

"  May  18.  Had  very  little  freedom  or  fervency.  Was 
perplexed  with  the  scene  before  me,  and  could  effect  but 
little. 

"  May  19.  Went  with  my  father  to  the  Association,  for  the 
purpose  of  receiving  their  approbation  to  preach  the  gospel. 
Was  exceedingly  fatigued. 

"  May  20.  Was  examined  and  approbated.  Was  so  weak 
that  I  could  scarcely  stand;  but  was  helped  in  some  meas- 
ure." 


84  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  VI. 

His  first  efforts  as  a  preacher — His  religious  character  fur^ 
ther  developed. 

Having  been  regularly  introduced  and  recommended  to  the 
churches  as  a  preacher,  Mr.  Payson  proceeded,  the  next  day, 
to  Marlborough,  to  fulfil  his  engagement  with  the  people  of 
that  place.  Change  of  situation,  however,  did  not  interrupt 
his  communion  with  God.  On  the  way,  his  mind  was  en- 
grossed with  divine  contemplations,  and  with  the  duties  and 
responsibilities  of  that  new  relation  in  which  he  now  stood  to 
the  church  and  the  world.  During  the  time  that  intervened 
between  this  and  the  Sabbath,  he  was  not  without  misgivings; 
as  he  complains  of  being  *  almost  discouraged  and  overwhelm- 
ed, in  view  of  his  unfitness  for  the  ministry ;'  and  once,  of  even 

*  wishing  himself  any    thing    rather  than    a   minister.'     He 

*  could  hardly  conceive  it  possible,  that  one  so  inconceivably 
vile  should  be  a  child  of  God ;  but  was  nevertheless  helped  to 
cast  his  burden  on  the  Almighty,  and  to  agonize  in  prayer  to 
be  delivered  from  this  body  of  death.'  The  Saturday  next  pre- 
ceding his  first  appearance  in  the  pulpit,  he  had  *  resolved  to 
spend  in  fasting  and  prayer ;'  but  when  the  day  arrived,  his 

*  health  would  not  permit.'  The  day  on  which  a  man  first 
stands  forth  as  the  ambassador  of  God  to  his  fellow  men,  is  an 
important  era  in  his  life ;  but  it  had  been  anticipated  with  so 
much  concern  by  Mr.  Payson,  that  it  seems  to  have  been  dis- 
tinguished by  no  extraordinary  strength  of  feelings.  His  own 
account  of  them  is  thus  expressed  : — 

"  May  24.  Sab.  Was  favored  with  considerable  fervency, 
life,  and  sense  of  dependence,  this  morning.  Endeavored  to 
cast  myself  wholly  on  the  Lord  for  support.  Felt  thankful  it 
was  rainy.  There  were  very  few  people  at  meeting ;  and  I 
just  got  through  without  stopping.  Spoke  too  fast  and  too 
low.  Was  a  good  deal  depressed  after  meeting.  In  the  after- 
noon, did  a  little  better,  but  still  bad  enough.  Was  very  much 
fatigued,  and  almost  in  a  fever ;  but  enjoyed  some  comfort 
after  meeting." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  85 

His  public  engagements,  important  as  he  felt  them  to  be, 
did  not  divert  his  attention  from  his  own  heart.  On  the  con- 
trary, personal  religion  continued  to  be  a  primary  concern. 
Of  this,  as  well  as  of  the  varied  nature  of  his  spiritual  exer- 
cises, there  is  an  accumulation  of  evidence  : — 

"  May  28.  Enjoyed  a  very  unusual  degree  of  sweetness 
and  fervor  this  morning.  O,  how  precious  did  Christ  appear 
to  my  soul !  How  I  longed  to  be  a  pure  flame  of  fire  in  his 
service,  to  be  all  zeal,  and  love,  and  fervor !  With  what  grat- 
itude did  I  look  up  to  him,  saying.  Blessed  Saviour,  behold 
how  happy  I  am  !  and  to  thee  all  my  happiness  is  owing.  But 
for  thee,  I  should  now  have  been  lifting  up  my  eyes,  being  in 
torments.  O,  what  shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord  for  all  his  ben- 
efits !  In  the  evening,  in  secret  prayer,  my  soul  was  filled  with 
unutterable  longings  and  insatiable  thirstings  after  God  in 
Christ.  I  earnestly  desired  that  all  mankind  might  be  as  hap- 
py as  I  was ;  that  they  should  all  see  what  a  glorious,  amiable 
being  God  is,  that  they  might  love  and  praise  him.  Retired 
to  rest  with  a  clear,  sweet,  realizing  apprehension  of  my  Sa- 
viour's presence,  and  dropped  to  sleep  in  this  frame. 

"  May  29.  Enjoyed  much  of  the  same  spiritual  sweetness 
which  I  felt  last  evening  ;  but  was  much  exercised  on  account 
of  pride,  or  rather  love  of  applause,  which  was  excited  by 
some  approbation  which,  I  lately  heard,  was  bestowed  on  my 
preaching.  Strove  with  all  my  might  to  be  delivered  from 
this  hateful  temper,  and  cried  for  some  time  to  my  Supporter 
and  Strength  ever  to  grant  me  his  grace  to  help.  Recalled  to 
mind  that  I  had  nothing  which  I  had  not  received ;  that  I 
had  most  wickedly  and  shamefully  wasted,  and  neglected  to 
improve  my  talents ;  that  applause  was  commonly  ill  bestow- 
ed ;  and  tha;t  the  praise  of  men  was  of  no  worth  compared 
with  the  approbation  of  God.  By  the  divine  blessing  on  these 
and  other  similar  considerations,  I  was  helped  to  overcome  it. 
In  the  evening,  was  much  assisted  in  prayer.  Had  a  greater 
spirit  of  wrestling  for  the  conversion  of  sinners  than  I  ever 
had  before." 

He  is  often  *  discouraged  by  the  little  which  he  accomplishes, 
and  the  selfish  motives  with  which  that  little  is  defiled.' 
He  is  assailed  by  '  strong  temptations,  which  drive  him  to  his 
knees  for  assistance  ;'  and  by  *  fi-equent  recurrence  of  the 
same  temptation,'  which  costs  him  long  and  severe  '  struggles, 
before  he  is  favored  with  complete  victory.'  This  is  followed 
8 


g(3  MEMOIR  OF 

by  '  increased  confidence  in  God,  as  able  to  supply  all  his 
need,  and,  at  the  same  time,  with  a  more  humbling  sense  of 
his  unfitness  for  the  ministry.'  And  even  when  he  is  in  a 
'  lively  frame'  during  several  successive  days,  he  is  still  *  aston- 
ished at  his  slow  progress  in  religion.'  Again,  *  pride  and  un- 
belief begin  to  work,  and  render  him  miserable,'  and  for  de- 
fence against  them  he  resorts  *  to  prayer,  pleading  various 
arguments  for  the  space  of  an  hour,  before  he  is  able  to  re- 
press pride  and  repining  thoughts.'  Nor  is  this  the  extremity 
of  his  conflict :  he  has  such  '  a  dreadful  view  of  his  heart,  that 
he  could  scarcely  support  the  sight  of  himself;  while  this,  *  in- 
stead of  humbling^  only  distressed  him,  so  that  he  is  at  last 
obliged  to  desist,  without,  as  he  can  perceive,  any  answer  at 
all.'  The  next  day,  he  can  cry,  "  Abba,  Father !"  with  all  the 
confidence  of  filial  love  : — 

"  Ju?ie  6.  Had  many  sweet  seasons  of  prayer  during  the 
day,  and  was  assisted  in  pleading  for  the  presence  of  the  Di- 
vine Spirit  to-morrow. 

"  June  8.  Had  great  earnestness  in  secret  prayer.  Long- 
ed to  be  wholly  devoted  to  God.  Thought  if  I  could,  from 
this  time,  do  every  thing  for  his  glory,  I  would  willingly  resign 
every  worldly  comfort,  and  be  the  most  despised  object  on  the 
face  of  the  earth.  Went  to  a  funeral,  and  was  assisted  in 
speaking  to  the  mourners,  and  in  prayer. 

'*  June  9.  Renewed  covenant,  and  took  God  for  my  God, 
and  gave  myself  up  to  him  in  sincerity,  and  with  more  joy  than 
I  ever  did  before.  In  the  afternoon,  was  favored  with  another 
most  sweet  and  refreshing  season  in  secret  prayer.  Have  sel- 
dom, if  ever,  felt  more  fervency,  more  hatred  of  sin,  and  more 
longing  desires  after  holiness. 

''June  10.  The  family  being  mostly  absent  to-day,  I  re- 
solved to  spend  it  in  fasting  and  prayer,  for  a  supply  of  minis- 
terial gifts  and  Christian  graces  ;  especially  that  I  might  be 
made  an  able,  faithful,  and  successful  minister  of  the  New 
Testament.  Was  assisted,  both  last  night  and  this  morning, 
in  seeking  the  divine  presence  and  blessing.  God  graciously 
heard  and  answered  me.  I  was  favored  with  great  and  unu- 
sual fervency  and  perseverance  in  prayer,  was  enabled  to  con- 
fess and  mourn  over  my  sins,  and  to  mourn  because  I  could 
not  mourn  more,  and  w^as  assisted  in  renewing  covenant  with 
God,  and  in  giving  myself  up  to  be  his  forever.  Was  entirely 
exhausted,  and  worn  out  in  body  and  mind,  before  night,  by 
the  strong  and  unutterable  desires  I  felt  after  personal  holiness 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  87 

and  the  success  of  Christ's  kingdom.  On  the  whole,  it  has 
been  a  very  profitable  day  to  my  soul,  as,  by  divine  goodness, 
most,  if  not  all,  my  fast  days  have  been." 

Four  days  after  this,  he  experienced  a  most  melancholy  re- 
verse, viewing  himself  as  the  *  most  vjle,  loathsome,  worthless 
wretch  in  existence  ;  could  only  throw  himself  prostrate,  and 
utter  the  cry  of  the  publican — "  God,  be  merciful  to  me  a  sin- 
ner." '  The  cause  of  this  distress  is  unintentionally  indicated. 
He  was  "  sick  in  bodi/  and  mind."     But, 

''  As  poison  oft  the  force  of  poison  quells," 

so  the  far  more  wretched  condition,  and  still  more  melancholy 
prospects,  of  a  fellow-creature,  caused  him  to  forget  his  own 
misery  : — 

"  Was  called  to  see  a  sick  man  supposed  to  be  dying  ;  he 
was  a  professor,  aged  eighty-seven.  Found  him  something 
alarmed,  but  he  gave  no  satisfactory  evidence  of  a  change. 
Stated  to  him  his  danger  and  the  reuiedy,  but,  I  fear,  to  little 
purpose.  Was  much  assisted  in  preaching.  My  strength  con- 
tinued, and  even  increased,  though  quite  exhausted  at  the 
close.  Went  to  see  the  sick  man  again.  Found  him  better 
in  body,  but  worse  in  mind. 

^^  June  16.  Had  no  heart  to  confess  my  sins ;  could  find  no 
words  which  would  do  any  thing  towards  it.  Saw  no  hope — 
scarcely  any  possibility  of  being  either  happy  or  useful.  Tried 
all  day  to  study,  but  could  neither  write  nor  read,  and  was 
completely  discouraged.  It  seemed  as  if  I  must  give  up 
preaching. 

^^  June  17.  Had  some  life  this  morning,  but  was  harassed 
with  wandering  thoughts.  Seemed  to  myself  more  vile  than 
any  other  creature  existing.  Expected  an  occasion  for  a  fu- 
neral sermon,  yet  could  effect  nothing.  Seldom,  if  ever,  spent 
a  more  painful  day.  Was  ready  to  say,  What  profit  shall  we 
have,  if  we  pray  unto  him  ;  for  I  prayed  once  and  again,  but 
found  no  relief  In  the  evening,  felt  a  little  better,  but  then 
was  ready  to  sink,  and  seemed  fit  for  nothing  but  to  be  fuel 
for  God's  wrath. 

^^  June  18.  Suffered  more  of  hell  to-day  than  ever  I  did 
in  my  life.  O  such  torment !  I  wanted  but  little  of  being 
distracted.  I  could  neither  read,  nor  write,  nor  pray,  nor  sit 
still. 

''June  19.  Rose  in  the  same  state  of  mind  in  which  I  lay 
down.     Rode  out,  and  felt  some  better,  so  that  I  found  some 


88  MEMOIR  OF 

liberty  to  pray. — P.  M.  Went  with  fear  and  trembling  to  at- 
tend a  funeral.  Was  assisted  in  speaking  to  the  mourners  : 
as  the  multitude  was  very  great,  I  was  requested  to  pray  out 
of  doors  ;  and,  though  the  situation  was  new,  and  I  was  un- 
well, I  was  carried  through.  Felt  some  relief  from  my  load 
of  melancholy,  and  was  .enabled  to  write. 

^^  June  20.  Set  apart  this  day  for  fasting  and  prayer.  Was 
unusually  assisted  in  pleading  for  increase  in  holiness.  Felt 
such  intense  longings  and  thirstings  after  more  love  to  God 
and  man,  more  devotedness  to  God's  will,  more  zeal  for  his 
glory,  that  my  body  was  almost  overcome.  Towards  night, 
was  enabled  to  plead  with  greater  fervency  than  ever,  so  that 
I  trust  this  will  prove  the  most  profitable  day  I  have  ever  had. 
In  the  evening,  was  greatly  assisted  in  prayer,  so  that  I  could 
scarcely  retire  to  rest. 

''June  21.  Went  to  meeting  with  raised  expectations;  but 
it  pleased  God  to  leave  me  more  destitute  than  usual,  though 
I  was  carried  through.  When  I  first  came  out  of  the  pulpit, 
I  was  not  in  a  very  good  frame  ;  but  before  I  got  half  way 
home,  was  easy,  satisfied,  and  even  pleased  to  be  despised,  so 
that  God's  will  might  be  done.  Was  much  more  assisted  in 
the  afternoon.     Felt  thankful. 

''June  22.  Very  unusual  degrees  of  fervor  this  morning. 
Very  unwell  all  day,  and  did  little  in  my  study.  In  the  even- 
ing, was  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of  my  own  unworthiness. 
O  how  wretchedly  my  life  passes  away ! 

"June  23.  As  soon  as  I  awoke  this  morning,  my  heart 
was  filled  with  most  intense  love  to  God  and  Christ,  so  that  it 
was  even  ready  to  break  for  the  longing  desires  it  had  to  go 
forth  after  God.  I  was  greatly  assisted  in  praying  that  I  might 
be  made  an  instrument  of  promoting  the  divine  glory  in  the 
world. 

"  June  25.  Thinking  it  would  be  more  convenient  to  keep 
my  weekly  fast  on  this  day,  sought  the  divine  presence  and 
blessing.  Felt  some  warm  affections  towards  my  Saviour  at 
first,  but  afterwards  could  neither  realize  my  wants,  nor  pray 
to  have  them  removed.  Continued  in  this  frame  till  towards 
night,  and  was  then  favored  with  a  deep  sense  of  my  utter 
vileness.  Was  also  enabled  to  plead,  even  with  agony  of  soul, 
to  be  freed  from  the  power  of  a  selfish  nature.  Could  not 
think  of  being  any  longer  subject  to  it. 

"June  26.  Much  favored.  Felt  insatiable  desires  after 
holiness,  and  that  I  might  spend  every  moment  of  future  life 
to  the  divine  glory. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  89 

"  Jtine  29.  Faint,  yet  pursuing,  is  a  good  motto  for  ine. 
Could  do  nothing  in  the  morning,  but  in  the  afternoon  gave 
up  all  hopes  of  ever  doing  any  thing.  Iniquities  seemed  to 
prevail  against  me,  and  I  was  ready  to  despair  ;  but,  throwing 
myself  on  the  Lord  Jesus  for  help,  I  received  strength.  In 
the  evening,  was  favored  with  freedom.  Felt  that  I  am  much 
more  habitually  affected  by  religious  subjects  than  I  have  been 
formerly ;  nor  are  my  affections  less  vehement,  or  less  easily 
excited. 

^\Tune  39.  Was  ready  to  sink  and  be  discouraged  in  view 
of  my  exceeding  sinfulness  and  little  progress  in  religion. 

^^  July  1.  Much  sweetness  in  prayer  this  morning.  Felt 
broken  and  contrite  for  sin. — P.  M.  Was  greatly  sunk  and 
depressed.  Seemed  to  be  a  poor,  miserable,  useless  wretch. 
Went  and  poured  forth  my  sorrows  at  the  feet  of  my  compas- 
sionate Saviour,  and  found  relief  O  how  gracious  is  our 
God! 

'^  July  5.  Sab.  Had  some  devout  feelings  and  desire 
after  assistance  this  morning,  but  could  not  get  hold  of  any 
thing  in  a  very  realizing  manner.  Was  very  much  deserted 
in  prayer  and  sermon,  and  felt  much  distressed  ;  but  in  the 
afternoon,  was  favored  with  great  enlargement,  both  in  prayer 
and  sermon.  Felt  a  strong  love  for  souls,  and  for  the  Lord 
Jesus.  Was  weak  and  exhausted  ;  but,  after  resting  awhile, 
had  a  most  sweet,  refreshing,  strengthening  season  in  prayer. 
Never  before  felt  so  much  of  the  spirit  of  the  gospel.  Felt 
like  a  pure  flame  of  love  towards  God  and  man.  Self  seemed 
to  be  almost  swallowed  up.  Felt  willing  to  go  any  where,  or 
be  any  thing,  by  which  God  could  be  glorified,  and  sinners 
saved.  Felt  my  hopes  of  being  useful  in  the  world  strength- 
ened. O  how  lovelyj  how  kind,  how  condescendingly  gra- 
cious, did  my  God  appear  !  Gave  myself  up  to  him  without 
reserve,  and  took  him  for  my  only  portion.  Blessed  be  his 
name  for  this  season. 

^^  July  6.  Rode  out  this  morning,  and  found  much  sweet- 
ness in  continually  lifting  up  my  heart  to  God  in  fervent  ejac- 
ulations. In  the  evening,  had  such  a  view  of  the  difficulties 
in  my  way,  and  of  my  exceeding  sinfulness,  that  I  was  ready 
to  sink  ;  but  my  blessed  Saviour  put  forth  his  hand  and  caught 
me. 

''July  7.     Was  harassed  with  wandering,  gloomy,  and  dis- 
tressing imaginations.     Could  not  fix  upon  a  text,  and  was 
much  perplexed  what  to  do.     Was  overwhelmed  with  melan- 
choly.— P.  M.  Went  to  a  funeral,  and  was  favored  with  some 
8* 


90  MEMOIR  OF 

assistance.     Went  to  make  a  visit  ;    found  good  Christian 
people,  a  most  kind  reception,  and  profitable  conversation." 

Few  enjoyments  were  more  exquisitely  satisfying  to  Mr. 
Payson,  than  those  which  he  derived  from  religious  inter- 
course. In  a  company  of  fellow-Christians,  whose  feelings 
would  rise  responsive  to  his  own,  when  the  themes  of  a  Sa- 
viour's love,  and  of  human  obligation  and  privilege,  were 
agitated,  his  soul  seemed  to  revel  in  spiritual  delights  ;  and 
he  was  gifted  by  nature  and  grace  with  the  prerogative  of  in- 
fusing a  rich  portion  of  his  own  emotions  into  the  rest  of  the 
favored  circle.  These  interviews  are  remembered,  by  many 
a  surviving  pilgrim,  as  among  the  liveliest  emblems  of  that 
'  better  country,'  which  he  has  ceased  to  anticipate,  by  actual 
fruition.  It  is  not  without  a  degree  of  shrinking,  that  we  fol- 
low him  in  his  sudden  transition  from  scenes  like  these  into 
the  very  depths  of  distress — awaking,  the  following  morning, 
'  weak,  dejected,  melancholy,  regarding  himself  as  useless  in 
the  world,  born  only  to  sin,  and  abuse  the  mercies  of  his  Sa- 
viour and  God,  to  disgrace  the  religion  which  he  preached, 
and  bring  dishonor  on  the  blessed  name  by  which  he  was 
called' — in  a  word,  *  oppressed  with  a  load  of  guilt,  so  that 
he  did  not  dare  to  retire  to  his  chamber  till  driven  thither, 
and  even  there,  while  prostrate  in  the  dust,  could  hardly  re- 
frain, in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  from  praying  to  be  released 
from  the  body  !'  In  the  debilitated  state  of  his  nervous  sys- 
tem, and  in  his  impaired  health,  the  reader  will  see  di  physical 
cause  for  this  depression.  He  had  actually  no  more  reason 
to  doubt  of  his  safety,  than  he  had  in  his  most  joyful  frames. 
On  this  point,  his  own  judgment  seems  to  have  been  sufficient- 
ly discerning,  even  when  its  decisions  could  not  summon  to 
his  aid  that  relief  for  which  he  sighed ;  for,  in  immediate  con- 
nexion with  these  heart-rending  lamentations,  he  says,  "  Other 
griefs  leave  the  mind  strength  to  grapple  with  them  ;  but  this 
oppressive  melancholy  cuts  the  very  sinews  of  the  soul,  so  that 
it  lies  prostrate,  and  cannot  exert  itself  to  throw  off  the  load." 

The  next  day  after  penning  this  graphic  and  unequalled 
description  of  his  real  malady,  he  is  seen  in  the  '*  chariot  of 
Amminadib,"  his  mind  moving  with  an  angel's  speed,  and 
performing  the  labor  of  many  days  in  one  : — "  Was  favored 
with  fervency  and  freedom  in  prayer.  Was  greatly  assisted 
in  writing,  through  the  day,  and  wrote  nearly  two  sermons. 
Felt  in  a  composed,  thankful  frame,  all  day,  and  felt  the  most 
ardent  love  for  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  for  all  mankind." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  91 

In  the  mitigated  forms  of  melancholy  there  is  a  soul-subdu- 
ing power,  which  few  are  able  to  resist.  It  then  loses  its  re- 
pulsive character,  and  the  soul  of  the  witness  is  attracted  and 
melted  into  sympathy.  A  mind  conscious  of  its  misery,  yet 
retaining  its  balance,  and  surveying  its  own  desolations  with ' 
unrepining  submission,  presents  a  spectacle  of  moral  sublimity, 
not  surpassed  by  any  thing  which  falls  under  human  observa- 
tion. This  constitutes  one  of  the  charms  of  our  Saviour's  char- 
acter, and  much  of  the  value  of  his  example.  In  this  attitude 
Mr.  Payson  may  be  seen  in  some  of  the  following  extracts,  and 
very  often  in  the  course  of  his  life.  In  the  second,  there  is  the 
expression  of  a  '  wish,'  which,  if  rigidly  interpreted,  might  be 
understood  as  indicating  a  criminal  dissatisfaction  with  life. 
But  it  is  an  involuntary  wish,  not  incompatible  with  innocence 
of  mind ;  for  it  has  its  counterpart  in  the  spotless  Sufferer  of 
the  garden  of  Gethsemane : — 

^^  July  17.  Find  that  the  two  principal  things,  in  which  I 
fail  externally,  are,  the  due  improvement  of  time,  and  the 
government  of  my  tongue.  I  daily  lose  many  moments — I 
might  almost  say  hours — in  giving  way  too  much  to  my  feel- 
ings of  gloom  and  discouragement ;  and  I  say  many  things 
which  at  best  are  unprofitable. 

^^ July  18.  Almost  distracted;  but  was  kept  most  of  the 
time  from  repining  or  murmuring,  only  sometimes  I  could  not 
help  wishing  that  I  were  extinct ;  but  this  was  wrung  from 
me  by  the  pressure  of  anguish,  for  my  soul  was  exceeding 
sorrowful. 

''July  19.  Sab.  Rose  very  early,  worn  out  in  body  and 
mind ;  but  felt  sweetly  resigned  to  the  divine  will,  and  was 
willing  to  be  assisted  as  much,  and  as  little,  as  God  should  see 
fit.  Had  some  assistance ;  but  after  meeting  was  excessively 
weak  and  depressed ;  thought  I  would  give  the  world  if  I  never 
had  preached,  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  never  should  go  into  the 
pulpit  again. 

"■  July  20.  Overwhelmed,  sunk,  discouraged  with  a  sense  of 
sin.  All  efforts  seemed  to  be  in  vain.  Discoveries  of  my  vile- 
ness,  instead  of  humbling  me,  as  might  be  expected,  only  ex- 
cited discouragement  and  unbelief;  v/hile  the  manifestations 
of  God's  love  only  make  me  proud  and  careless.  My  wretched 
soul  cleaves  to  the  dust ! 

"  July  22.  O,  what  a  dreadful,  what  an  inconceivable  abyss 
of  corruption  is  my  heart!  What  an  amazing  degree  of  pride 
and  vanity,  of  selfishness  and  envy,  does  it  contain ! 

''July  23.     Was  excited  to  feel  fretful  and  peevish  at  two 


92  MEMOIR  OF 

or  three  trifling  circumstances;  but  fled  for  refuge  to  the 
throne  of  grace,  and,  by  praying  for  myself,  for  the  persons 
with  whom  I  was  disposed  to  be  offended,  and  especially  by 
meditating  on  the  meekness  and  gentleness  of  Christ,  was  en- 
abled to  preserve  peace  and  tranquillity  of  mind.  Was  much 
assisted  in  prayer. 

^^  July  24.  Was  visited  by  a  young  student  in  divinity,  and 
had  some  profitable  conversation  with  him.  Was  never  able 
to  converse  in  a  clearer  manner  upon  religious  subjects. 

'''July  25.  This  being  my  birth-day,  I  set  it  apart  for 
solemn  fasting  and  prayer,  with  thanksgiving.  After  confess- 
ing and  mourning  over  the  sins  of  my  past  life,  and  contrasting 
them  with  God's  mercies,  and  offering  up  praise  and  thanks- 
giving for  his  goodness,  I  solemnly  renewed  covenant  with 
God,  and,  with  my  whole  heart,  so  far  as  I  could  judge,  gave 
myself,  my  friends,  and  all  that  I  have,  to  be  disposed  of  as  he 
should  see  fit.  I  felt  willing  to  live  or  die,  as  God  pleased, 
and  to  go  among  the  Indians,  or  to  any  part  of  the  world, 
where  I  could  be  instrumental  in  promoting  the  glory  of  God, 
and  the  happiness  of  man.  Felt  unusually  longing,  insatiable, 
and  intense  desires  after  holiness  of  heart  and  life,  and  espe- 
cially after  humility.  Was  never  enabled  to  pray  more  fervently 
for  spiritual  blessings — could  wrestle  and  persevere  therein. 
Felt  an  impression  that  this  is  the  last  birth-day  I  shall  ever  see.'* 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  and  he  was  so  far  spent  with 
its  labors,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  he  could  reach  his  lodg- 
ings. The  night  was  passed  without  rest ;  and  of  his  increased 
weakness  in  the  morning  '■  Satan  was  suffered  to  take  advan- 
tao-e,  and  fill  his  mind  with  unutterable  anguish.'  But  he 
\fourid  relief  in  prayer,  and  felt  strengthened  to  go  on  with 
fresh  vigor  in  his  Christian  course,  exclaiming — O,  how  true 
it  is,  that,  to  those  who  have  no  might,  he  increaseth  strength.^ 

"  July  29.  I  yesterday  read  an  author  on  the  subject  of 
human  depravity,  and,  being  perplexed  with  some  of  his  objec- 
tions, prayed  to  be  guided  to  the  truth  in  this  doctrine.  Was 
now  convinced,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  in  me  naturally  dwelt  no 
good  thing.  O,  how  vile,  how  loathsome  did  my  heart  ap- 
pear !  I  was  ready  to  think  I  had  never  known  any  thing  at 
all  of  my  own  character  before,  and  that  there  were  infinite 
depths  in  my  nature,  that  I  could  not  see.  In  the  course  of  the 
day,  was  favored  with  still  further  discoveries  of  myself,  of  true 
holiness,  and  of  Christ,  so  that  I  seemed  never  to  have  known 
any  thing  of  religion  before. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  93 

^^  Aug.  3.  My  blessed  Saviour,  compassionating  my  weak- 
ness, was  pleased  to  make  me  strong  in  himself,  and  to  favor 
me  with  a  most  refreshing  season.  Never  felt  so  desirous  to 
depart  and  be  with  Christ,  and  at  the  same  time  more  willing  to 
live*  and  undergo  all  hardships  for  his  glory.  Desired  that 
my  life  might  be  spent  in  a  close  walk  with  God." 

His  ^  desire  to  become  a  missionary'  revived  about  this  time, 
but  'did  not  ripen  into  a  fixed  purpose,  for  the  plain  reason,  that 
he  could  not  determine  that  such  was  the  will  of  God.  He  sub- 
mitted the  decision  of  the  question  to  his  Master  in  heaven,  pray- 
ing, 'that  God  would  do  with  him  as  he  pleased,- in  this  respect.' 

^'  Aug.  5.  Was  greatly  perplexed  and  distressed,  yet  tried 
to  keep  myself  in  a  quiet,  waiting  frame,  but  found  great  diffi- 
culty in  keeping  out  impatient,  murmuring  thoughts.  Could 
not  determine  whether  my  being  thus  deserted  was  to  punish 
me  for  my  slothfulness  and  misimprovement  of  time,  or  only 
for  the  trial  of  my  faith  and  patience.  My  soul  remembered 
the  bitterness  and  the  gall  which  it  had  once  before  experi- 
enced on  a  similar  occasion,  and  shuddered  at  the  idea  of  a 
renewal." 

Extracts  might  be  multiplied,  exhibiting  him  as  '  sinking  in 
deep  waters,  where  the  floods  overflow  him,'  and  then  again 
*  surprised  with  a  sudden  visit  from  his  blessed  Lord,  full  of 
sweetness  to  his  soul ;' — his  mind  at  one  time  so  clogged  in  its 
operations  by  his  burdens,  that  he  '  tried  in  vain  to  write ;'  at 
another,  so  buoyant,  that,  '  though  almost  confined  to  his  bed, 
he  is  enabled  to  write  a  whole  sermon  in  a  day.'  This  con- 
trast is  no  where  more  strikingly  marked  than  by  the  follow- 
ing entry,  after  suffering  from  '  melancholy,  which  overwhelm- 
ed him  like  a  thousand  mountains,  so  that  his  soul  was  crushed 
under  it :' — 

"  Aug.  15.  Rose  in  a  sweet,  tranquil,  thankful  frame,  bless- 
ing God  for  the  storm  of  yesterday,  and  the  calm  to-day.  O, 
how  great  is  his  wisdom,  how  great  his  goodness !  Had  faith 
and  freedom  in  prayer.  Yesterday,  I  thought  God  himself 
could  hardly  carry  me  through.    But  to-day — O,  how  changed  1' ' 

Before  this,  the  reader  may  have  expected  to  learn  what 
influence  his  secret  devotions  had  on  the  services  of  the  sanc- 
tuary, also  the  result  of  his  public  labors  in  regard  to  the  peo- 
ple to  whom  he  ministered.     It  is  almost  superfluous  to  add, 

*  "  Nor  love  thy  life,  nor  hate ;  but  what  thou  liv'st 
Live  well }  how  long  or  short,  permit  to  heaven." 


94  MEMOIR  OF 

that  they  were  not  without  effect.  Others  "  took  knowledge 
of  him,  that  he  had  been  with  Jesus."  The  solemnity  and 
unction  of  his  social  prayers ;  the  earnestness  and  v  ariety  of 
argument  with  which  he  pleaded  at  the  throne  of  grace ;  his 
unyielding  importunity  for  the  blessings  which  he  sought, — 
had  roused  attention,  and  drawn  forth  the  confession,  that 
*  the  Spirit  of  the  holy  God  was  within  him.'  "  God  must 
help  him,  or  he  could  never  pray  so," — said  an  observing  man, 
who  had  previously  professed  no  regard  for  religion.  Herein 
he  doubtless  expressed  the  generally-prevailing  sentiment,  as 
Mr.  Pay  son  mentions  among  his  trials,  "  well-meant,  but  inju- 
dicious commendations" — while  he  renders  *  all  the  glory  to 
God,  who  did  not  suffer  him  to  forget  his  own  weakness.' 

But  besides  the  general  impression  produced  by  his  preach- 
ing, he  was  instrumental  of  individual  conversions.  More  than 
once  he  was  allowed  to  record  an  event  like  the  following — 
"  Truly  in  faithfulness  God  afflicts  me.  Early  this  morning,  a 
young  man  came  to  me  under  deep  distress  of  mind,  and  gave 
pretty  satisfactory  evidence  that  he  had  experienced  a  real 
change.  He  said  he  had  received  great  benefit  from  my 
preaching.  This  was  a  very  seasonable  cordial  to  my  fainting 
spirits."  Such  events  caused  him  to  *  retire  to  his  chamber j> 
overflowing  with  wonder  and  gratitude  at  God's  unmerited 
goodness  to  such  a  miserable  wretch.' 

His  faithful  conversation  was  also  blessed  to  the  family  with 
whom  be  resided;  and  the  last  Sabbath  on  which  he  officiated^ 
at  Marlborough,  it  was  his  happiness  to  propound  his  host  and 
hostess  as  candidates  for  admission  into  the  church.  Thus 
early  did  God  honor  his  ministry,  and  give  him  an  earnest  of 
the  power  which  was  to  attend  the  word  dispensed  by  him. 

Enough  has  been  developed  to  show  the  secret  of  Dr.  Pay- 
son's  greatness,  and  of  his  success.  He  laid  hold  on  the  di- 
vine strength.  Prayer,  by  which  the  creature  communes  with 
God,  and  obtains  grace  to  help  in  every  time  of  need,  was  em- 
inently the  business  of  his  life,  and  the  medium  through  which 
he  derived  inexhaustible  supplies.  It  was  not  the  stated  morn- 
ing and  evening  incense  alone,  which  he  offered ;  but  that  he 
had  *much  enlargement,  and  many  sweet  seasons  of  prayer 
during  the  day,'  is  matter  of  frequent  record,  and  probably  of 
still  more  frequent  experience.  Almost  incessantly  was  he 
conversant  with  spiritual  and  eternal  things.  His  conversation 
was  in  heaven.  He  also  valued  and  sought  the  intercessions 
of  others.  In  a  letter  to  his  parents,  probably  the  first  he  ever 
wrote  after  he  commenced  preaching,  he  ^ays — "  I  beg  you  to 
pray  for  me  most  earnestly  and  importunately.     I  seem  to  be 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  95 

walking  on  a  hair,  and  hardly  dare  go  down  to  breakfast  or 
dinner,  lest  I  should  say  or  do  something  which  may  disgrace 
the  ministry,  or  hurt  the  cause  of  religion ;  so  that  I  shall 
never  need  your  prayers  more  than  now." — The  sensibility  to 
danger,  here  so  apparent,  though  it  occasionally  subjected  him 
to  temporary  indecision  and  perplexity,  was,  next  to  the  prom- 
ised support  of  the  Most  High,  his  greatest  security .- 

It  will  also  have  been  seen,  that  Mr.  Payson  was  subject 
to  great  extremes  of  feeling — at  one  time,  "caught  up,"  with 
Paul,  where  he  *  heard  things  unutterable  ;'  at  another,  sunk  to 
the  lowest  point  of  depression,  where  existence  was  a  "  burden 
too  heavy  for  him."  Many  have  imagined  his  Christian  career 
to  have  been  one  of  uninterrupted  joy  and  triumph,  and  such 
will,  perhaps,  regret  any  allusion  to  those  seasons  when  *  his 
soul  was  cast  down  in  him ;'  but  to  keep  these  out  of  sight, 
would  be  to  conceal  a  class  of  affections,  from  which  his  exer- 
cises, language  and  conduct  received  important  modifications. 
Subsequently  to  this  time,  there  were,  in  his  character,  phe- 
nomena to  be  accounted  for ;  and  the  causes,  which  it  is  impos- 
sible wholly  to  suppress,  may  as  well  be  fairly  divulged  as  merely 
insinuated  and  left  for  suspicion  to  magnify.  Scoffers  and  re- 
vilers  will  draw  poison  from  the  disclosure — and  what  will  they 
not  pervert  ? — but  others  will  improve  it  to  a  holier  purpose  ;  for 

"  With  a  soul  that  ever  felt  the  sting 
Of  sorrow,  sorrow  is  a  sacred  thing-." 

There  are  minds  so  delicately  strung,  that  they  cannot  escape 
its  most  distressing  attacks.  Friendship,  philosophy,  and  even 
religion,  as  it  exists  in  imperfect  man,  cannot  oppose  a  com- 
plete barrier  to  its  influence.  With  many,  in  fact,  it  is  the 
principal  part  of  their  religious  discipline.  The  best  of  men 
have  occasionally  groaned  under  its  pressure.  It  made  Job 
**  weary  of  his  life  ;"  and  that  pensive,  tender-hearted  prophet, 
who  was  sanctified  from  the  womb,  and  to  whom  the  subject 
of  this  Memoir  bore  no  slight  resemblance,  complains — "  When 
I  would  comfort  myself  against  sorrow,  my  heart  is  faint  in 
me  1"  Why  should  it  be  thought  strange,  then,  that  uninspired 
men  are  not  exempted  from  this  calamity  ? 

"  'Tis  not,  as  heads  that  never  ache  suppose, 

Forgery  of  fanc}^  and  a  dream  of  woes  j 

Man  is  a  harp,  whose  chords  ehide  the  sight, 

Each  yielding  harmony,  disposed  aright ; 

The  screws  reversed,  (a  task,  which,  if  he  please, 

God  in  a  moment  executes  with  ease,) 

Ten  thousand  thousand  strings  at  once  go  loose, 

Lost,  till  he  tune  them,  all  their  power  and  use." 

"  No  wounds  like  those  a  wounded  spirit  feels, 

No  cure  for  such,  till  God,  who  makes  them,  heals." 


96  MEMOIR  OF 

And  yet  how  barbarously  is  the  state  of  mind,  here  described, 
treated ! 

^'  Tliis,  of  all  maladies  that  man  infest; 
Claims  most  compassion,  and  receives  the  least ; 
Job  felt  it  when  he  groaned  beneath  the  rod 
And  the  barbed  arrows  of  a  frowning  God  3 
And  such  emollients  as  his  friends  could  spare, 
Friends  such  as  his  for  modem  Jobs  prepare. 
Blest;  rather  curst,  with  hearts  that  never  feel, 
Kept  snug  in  caskets  of  close-hammered  steel. 
With  mouths  made  only  to  grin  wide  and  eat. 
And  minds  that  deem  derided  pain  a  treat, 
With  limbs  of  British  Ocik,  and  nerves  of  wire, 
And  wit,  that  puppet-prompters  might  inspire. 
Their  sovereign  nostrum  is  a  clumsy  joke 
On  pangs  enforced  with  God's  severest  stroke.'' 

Language,  which  is  wrung  from  a  man  by  the  agony  of 
feeling,  will,  nevertheless,  be  variously  interpreted  by  different 
readers,  as  they  shall  sympathize  or  not  with  his  doctrinal  be- 
lief Had  the  expressions  already  quoted,  and  which,  in  the 
mouth  of  a  cold  calculator,  would  certainly  indicate  a  disgust 
with  life,  escaped  Mr.  Pay  son  at  a  later  period,  immediately 
on  some  reverse  in  his  prospects,  by  which  his  fame  would  be 
affected — they  might  have  been  regarded  as  the  language  of 
disappointed  ambition,  presenting  a  case  analogous  to  that  of 
the  disobedient  prophet,  who,  because  God  had  averted  from 
Nineveh  the  catastrophe  which  he  had  predicted,  thought  he 
*  did  well  to  be  angry,  even  unto  death.'  But  he  had  just  en- 
tered on  his  profession,  had  matured  no  schemes  of  self-exal- 
tation, was  without  a  rival,  and  a  mere  sojourner,  not  knowing 
whither  his  next  remove  would  be,  or  where  his  ultimate  des- 
tination would  place  him.  His  pretensions  were  as  modest, 
and  his  expectations  as  humble,  as  those  of  any  man  in  simi- 
lar circumstances.  And,  so  far  from  suffering  the  chagrin  of 
disappointment,  his  preaching  was  regarded  with  a  degree  of 
approbation  which  exceeded  his  highest  hopes.  In  no  case 
do  these  expressions  indicate  a  deliberately  formed  and  cher- 
ished wish ;  on  the  contrary,  they  are  the  utterance  of  a  mo- 
mentary and  involuntary  feeling ;  a  feeling  suddenly  excited, 
and  more  suddenly  rejected  ;  a  feeling,  therefore,  which  might 
have  left  the  mind  wholly  uncontaminated  with  guilt. 

"  Evil  into  the  mind  of  God  or  man 

May  come  and  go,  so  unapproved,  and  leave 

No  spot  or  blame  behind." 

In  judging  of  this  class  of  his  exercises,  it  should  not  be  for- 
gotten, that  his  health  was  already  undermined ;  his  system  had 
lost  much  of  its  elasticity,  and  encountered  a  shock,  from  the 
effects  of  which  it  never  afterwards  recovered.  Besides,  he 
had  a  constitutional  predisposition  to  melancholy,  which  other 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  97 

branches  of  his  family  are  said  to  have  inherited  to  a  still  more 
painful  degree.  This  caused  him  frequently  to  view  every 
thing  connected  with  his  own  personal  security,  prospects,  and 
usefulness,  through  the  medium  of  a  distorting  and  aggravat- 
ing gloom.  But  to  make  his  faith  accountable  for  his  distresses, 
would  be  the  highest  offence  to  his  now  sainted  spirit,  and  the 
grossest  libel  upon  that  religion  which  bore  him  above  the 
immeasurably  accumulated  sufferings  of  his  last  days.  His 
religion,  instead  of  being  the  cause  of  his  gloom,  was  his  only 
refuge  from  its  overwhelming  effects.  The  precious  doctrines 
of  grace,  according  to  his  own  views  of  them,  alone  kept  him 
from  sinking.  His  distress,  indeed,  was  often  owing  to  in- 
adequate causes,  and  his  '  mind  slow  to  receive  the  comfort' 
which  God  is  ever  ready  to  bestow ;  but  if,  with  his  own  views 
of  the  gospel,  he  was  sometimes  melancholy,  with  different 
views  he  would  have  gone  distracted. 

These  remarks  are  not  intended  as  a  defence,  but  as  an  im- 
partial exhibition  of  facts.  We  are  not  concerned  to  approve 
of  every  thing  in  Mr.  Pay  son's  character.  He  was  a  man — a 
sinner  ;  and  it  is  well  for  survivers  that  he  had  faults,  lest,  in 
looking  at  him,  they  should  lose  sight  of  his  and  their  Saviour. 
To  a  man  whom  so  many  excellences  rendered  lovely,  and 
who  was,  in  the  best  sense,  the  benefactor  of  thousands,  they 
would  be  in  danger  of  rendering  a  sort  of  idolatrous  homage, 
if  there  were  no  features  in  his  character  to  be  contemplated 
with  pain  and  regret.  So  far  as  the  destruction  of  his  health 
was  brought  on  by  his  ow^n  imprudences,  he  is  to  be  blamed  ; 
and  is,  in  a  measure,  responsible  for  the  consequences.  He  did 
not  foresee  them,  it  is  true,  but  thought  himself  an  exception 
to  a  general  law ;  still  he  should  have  hearkened  to  the  paren- 
tal voice  which  warned  him.  He  erred  too — if  one  may  say 
it  without  arrogance,  whose  pretensions  to  piety  are  as  nothing 
compared  with  his — in  looking  too  much  to  frames  for  the 
evidences  of  his  piety.  He  was  too  solicitous  for  sensible  en- 
joyment, and  too  much  disturbed  by  its  absence.  Yet,  however 
deep  his  sadness  at  these  times,  he  had  not  a  settled  melan- 
choly. With  his  susceptibility,  he  could  not,  probably,  have 
survived  a  long  period  of  spiritual  desertion,  and  to  this  he  was 
not  doomed  ;  but  he  was  too  impatiently  eager  for  total  exemp- 
tion, and  for  this  he  was  most  severely  chastised  by  the  same 
kind  hand  which  so  plentifully  rewarded  his  fidelity. 

There  is,  however,  one  aspect,  in  which  all  the  hardships 
that  he  imposed  on  himself, — the  ruin  of  his  constitution  by  ab- 
stinence, night  vigils,  and  extraordinary  exertion,  and  even  all 
his  mental  agonies, — may  be  viewed  with  a  feeling  of  entire 
9 


98  MEMOIR  OF 

reconciliation.  All  these  trying  processes,  to  which  he  sub- 
jected his  mind,  may  justly  be  regarded  as  a  series  of  experi- 
ments on  himself,  designed  by  Providence  for  the  good  of  the 
church,  indeed  of  the  human  race.  To  him,  in  the  exercise 
of  his  future  ministry,  they  were  incalculably  valuable.  The 
knowledge  acquired  by  this  painful  experience  was  not  without 
vast  expense  to  himself;  but  it  constituted  one  of  his  most  im- 
portant qualifications  for  aiding  numerous  other  souls  through 
the  labyrinths  of  error  and  mental  distress.  In  this  way,  he 
was  taught  "  how  to  speak  a  word  in  season  to  him  that  is 
weary" — to  be  "  a  guide  of  the  blind,  a  light  to  them  that  are 
in  darkness,  a  teacher  of  babes."  So  familiar  did  he  become 
with  almost  every  possible  case  of  conscience,  every  form  of 
spiritual  trial  and  delusion,  to  which  either  inquirers  or  estab- 
lished Christians  are  exposed,  that  he  could  instantly  recog- 
nise their  symptoms,  and  apply  the  needed  antidote. 

In  all  his  revolutions  of  feeling,  varied  exercises,  and  chang- 
ing frames,  there  is  discoverable  an  unvarying  simplicity  of 
purpose.  The  destruction  of  sin,  and  the  extension  of  the 
empire  of  holiness  in  himself  and  others,  are  the  objects  con- 
stantly before  him.  His  eye  was  single,  and  directed  to  the 
glory  of  God ;  and  he  longed  for  the  salvation  of  men,  as  the 
work  in  which  the  divine  glory  eminently  appears.  He  com- 
plains frequently  of  his  pride,  vanity,  and  selfishness — qualities, 
doubtless,  eminently  congenial  with  his  unrenewed  nature,  but 
which  were  now  evidently  most  unwelcome  intruders,  and 
which  it  was  his  constant  grief  that  he  could  not  wholly  dis- 
lodge. L^t  those,  who  would  convert  his  full  confessions  into 
a  proof,  *  that  he  was  sinful  above  all  men,'  be  reminded,  that, 
if  they  were  to  watch  the  motions  of  their  own  hearts  with  the 
same  unrelenting  severity,  they  might  find  even  greater  abom- 
inations, than  any  of  which  he  complains,  holding  hitherto 
undisturbed  empire  over  their  souls ;  and  not,  as  in  him,  an- 
noying, yet  conquered  passions,  which  the  gracious  principle 
would  in  the  end  wholly  eradicate. 

On  the  18th  of  August,  he  took  '  a  very  affectionate  leave  of 
the  family  by  whom  he  had  been  so  kindly  entertained,'  and 
revisited  home,  where  he  spent  three  days ;  and  then  '  set  out 
in  a  violent  rain  for  Andover,'  Mass.,  where  he  had  an  engage- 
ment to  preach,  and  *  felt  some  consolation  in  reflecting  that 
he  was  going  on  his  Father's  and  Saviour's  business.'  The 
second  day,  he  arrived,  *  wet,  wearied,  and  dejected.'  Of  his 
performances  on  the  following  Sabbath,  he  says — "  I  had  little 
assistance  in  preaching,  and  pleased  neither  the  people  nor 
myself J^     He  here  expresses,  not  an  opinion  merely,  but  a 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  99 

fact.  Popular  as  he  deservedly  was,  his  preaching  was  not 
regarded  with  favor  by  the  church  in  North  Andover,  which 
had  been  left  destitute  by  the  death  of  Dr.  Synimes.  Wheth- 
er it  were  owing  to  their  preference,  or  his,  or  to  a  special 
providence,  he  tarried  there  but  one  Sabbath,  and  his  next  re- 
move was  to  the  scene  of  his  future  labors — a  field  vastly  more 
extensive,  and  one  which  he  was  eminently  fitted  to  occupy. 


100  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Visits   Portland — his  favorable   reception,    and  Ordination. 

On  the  morning  of  Monday,  August  24th,  Mr.  Payson  left 
Andover  for  Portland  ;  his  mind  absorbed  with  heavenly  medita- 
tions on  the  road,  and  praying  and  renewing  his  covenant  with 
God  at  his  resting  places.  Stop  w^here  he  might,  he  was  sure 
to  find  or  to  make  the  place  a  Bethel ;  and  while  the  solemni- 
ty of  his  devotions  resembled  that  of  the  patriarch's  on  his  way 
to  Padan-aram,  his  faith  realized  what  that  patriarch  saw  in  vis- 
ion, and  found  an  open  way  of  communication  between  earth 
and  heaven.     Thus  he  journeyed, 

"  Prayer  all  his  business,  all  his  pleasure  praise." 

He  arrived  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  and  lost  no  time 
in  renewing  his  acquaintance,  and  entering  on  his  new  duties 
there.  The  frightful  reputation  of  being  a  Hopkinsian  had 
preceded  him,  and  accounts  in  part  for  the  following  entry  in 
his  diary : — 

^^  Aug.  27.  Visited  a  number  of  my  old  fi-iends,  lest  they 
should  think  me  sour  and  morose,  and  so  pay  less  regard  to 
my  preaching.     Was  kindly  received." 

A  letter  to  his  parents  contains  more  on  the  same  subject : — 

^'Portland,  Aug.  31,  1807. 

"  I  arrived  here  on  Wednesday  morning,  26th  inst.,  after  a 
very  pleasant  ride,  from  which  I  have  already  derived  suffi- 
cient advantage  to  compensate  me  for  the  time  and  expense. 
My  health  seems  wonderfully  improved ;  I  enjoy  sound,  re- 
freshing sleep,  which  I  have  not  for  two  months  before;  and 
I  feel  strong  and  able  to  study.  Nor  shall  I  derive  less  advan- 
tage, in  another  point  of  view,  from  this  tour.  Mr.  Kellogg 
tells  me,  that  he  had  heard  in  Boston",  that  I  was  rapidly  gain- 
ing the  title  and  reputation  of  a  Hopkinsian ;  and  that  a  great 
part  of  his  plan,  in  getting  me  here,  was  to  counteract  that  re- 
port, and,  with  the  assistance  of  Mrs.  K.,  to  make  something  of 
me,  to  use  his  own  expression.     However  this  may  be,  he  seems 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  101 

disposed  to  be  of  service  to  me,  and  has  already  given  me 
some  hints,  that  will  be  very  beneficial.  He  has  also  a  good 
library,  and  I  shall,  I  trust,  be  able  to  spend  the  time  here  both 
profitably  and  agreeably.  As  the  people  here  have  heard  that 
I  am  a  Hop.,  and  think  it  a  great  pity  that  a  harmless  young 
man  should  be  transformed  into  such  a  shocking  creature,  I 
thought  it  might  have  a  good  effect  to  call  upon  all  my  old 
acquaintance,  in  order  to  convince  them  that  my  religion  was 
not  of  that  morose,  unsocial  kind  which  they  supposed ;  and 
that  a  Hopkinsian,  supposing  me  to  be  one,  was  not  quite  so 
bad  as  the  devil.  My  visits  were  received  more  kindly  than  I 
expected,  and,  1  have  reason  to  think,  will,  in  some  measure, 
produce  the  designed  effect." 

Mr.  Payson  entered  upon  the  appropriate  duties  of  his  call- 
ing with  the  most  exemplary  diligence  and  energy,  and  the 
effects  were  almost  immediately  visible.  Such  was  the  atten- 
tion excited  by  his  preaching,  that  he  seems  to  have  regarded 
himself  as  in  great  danger  of  thinking  more  highly  of  himself 
than  he  ought  to  think,  and  to  have  brought  all  his  spiritual 
forces  to  bear  against  this  propensity.  With  reference  to  this, 
he  observed  frequent  seasons  of  humiliation,  and  oftener  renew- 
ed the  consecration  of  himself  and  his  talents  to  God.  It  was 
the  burden  of  his  secret  prayers,  that  he  might  be  delivered 
from  pride,  from  self-seeking,  from  preaching  himself,  instead 
of  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord. 

*^  Sept  6.  Heard  my  performances  much  commended ;  and, 
fearing  lest  I  should  feel  puffed  up,  I  withdrew,  and  prayed 
earnestly  that  I  might  be  preserved  from  it.  And  God  was 
pleased  to  assist  me  in  a  most  wonderful  and  unusual  manner 
in  pleading,  not  only  for  that  and  other  mercies,  but  in  renew- 
ing covenant  with  him,  and  praising  him  for  all  his  mercies. 
Never  felt  more  gratitude,  more  humility,  more  love  to  God 
and  benevolence  to  man,  than  R.t  this  time.  Indulged  some 
hopes  that  God  would  pour  out  his  Spirit,  but  hardly  expected 
it.  Saw  that  all  the  mercies  I  received  were  bestowed  for  the 
sake  of  my  Lord  Jesus  alone ;  and  that  in  myself  I  was  far 
more  deserving  of  hell  than  of  all  that  happiness.  Could  not 
praise  God  as  I  wished,  but  my  soul  panted,  and  almost  fainted 
with  ardor  of  desire  to  glorify  him,  and  be  wholly  devoted  to 
his  service. 

''Sept.  14.     Read   Baxter   on  Pride.     Was   almost   over- 
whelmed to  see  how  much  I  have  in  my  heart.     Could  hardly 
refrain  from  despairing  of  ever  being  humble." 
9* 


102  MEMOIR  OF 

In  a  letter  to  his  father,  written  a  few  days  after  this,  he 
complains  of  himself  in  the  following  strain  : — 

*'  I  almost  despair  of  making  any  improvement  in  this  world. 
God  keeps  loading  me  with  one  blessing  on  another,  but  I 
cannot  grow  any  more  grateful.  I  cannot  feel  less  proud,  less 
selfish,  less  worldly-minded.  O,  if  God  by  his  Spirit  did  not 
j)revent  me,  and  still  in  a  manner  force  me  to  keep  striving 
jilmost  against  my  will,  I  should  give  up  in  despair.  It  makes 
no  difference — let  me  labor  ever  so  much,  and  feel  ever  so 
lively  while  alone,  the  moment  I  go  into  the  pulpit,  or  a  con- 
ference meeting,  I  am  as  dead  and  stupid  as  a  post,  and  have 
no  realizing  sense  of  divine  things.  The  meeting-house  is  the 
grave  of  every  thing  good,  and  the  place  where  corruption  al- 
ways gets  the  mastery.  Sometimes  it  seems  impossible  that  it 
should  be  so.  I  set  out  from  home  so  strong,  so  raised  above 
the  world,  with  so  much  zeal  for  God,  and  so  much  compassion 
for  poor,  perishing  sinners,  that  I  cannot  help  hoping  it  is  going 
to  be  better  with  me.  But  the  moment  I  begin,  it  is  all  gone  1 
When  I  seem  to  be  much  engaged,  and  the  people  think  I  am 
all  on  fire,  I  fear  that  God  sees  my  heart  like  a  mere  block  of 
ice.  If  there  are  any  who  can  look  back  with  pleasure  on  a 
life  well  spent,  I  can  hardly  hope  that  I  am  a  Christian,  or  that 
I  ever  shall  be  one  ;  for  never  shall  I  be  able  to  do  that.  Adieu, 
my  dearest  parents  :  do  continue  to  pray  for  me,  for  I  am  walking 
on  ice,  or,  as  the  prophet  says,  "in  slippery  places  in  darkness." 

Mr.  Payson's  situation  was  at  this  time  truly  critical  and 
dangerous.  His  reception  as  a  preacher  was  flattering  almost 
beyond  example.  Not  one  man  in  a  thousand  can  bear  hum.an 
applause  uninjured.  "Wo  unto  you,"  said  Christ  to  his  dis- 
ciples, "when  all  men  shall  speak  well  of  you."  The  most 
dreadful  part  of  this  wo  is  that  which  falls  upon  one^s  spirit- 
ual interests.  Mr.  Payson  had  scarcely  been  six  weeks  in 
Portland,  before  overtures  were  made  to  him,  by  each  of  the 
three  Congregational  societies,  to  become  their  teacher ;  and 
there  w^as  also  a  plan  agitated  to  build  him  a  new  meeting- 
house. Applications  from  different  parishes  in  the  vicinity, 
and  likewise  from  abroad,  were  frequent.  The  letters,  which 
he  wrote  to  his  parents,  at  this  period,  contain  interesting  al- 
lusions to  his  circumstances  : — 

"  Portland,  Sept.  12,  1807. 
*'  My  dearest  Parents, 

"  When  I  came  here,  I  could  not  help  indulging  a  secret 

hope,  that  I  should  be  so  favored  as  to  see  some  happy  effects 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  103 

resulting  from  it.  I  know  not,  however,  whether  it  arose  so 
high  as  hope  ;  it  was,  perhaps,  rather  a  wish.  Whether  this 
wish  will  in  any  degree  be  gratified,  is  at  present  uncertain. 
'JThe  people  seem  to  rouse  themselves  up,  and  stare,  and  hard- 
ly know  what  to  make  of  it.  They,  however,  appear  to  exhib- 
it less  enmity  and  ill-will  than  I  expected.  Some  of  the  prin- 
cipal men,  who  are  not  suspected  of  being  very  friendly  to 
religion,  say,  as  I  am  informed,  that,  to  be  sure,  my  sermons 
are  rather  hot,  but  they  are  convinced  no  other  kind  of  preach- 
ing would  ever  do  any  good.  Others  say,  it  cuts  up  all  their 
own  foundation,  and  all  their  hopes  of  heaven ;  but  they  think 
it  a  duty  to  support  these  doctrines,  because  they  are  true. 
The  congregation  is  very  solemn  and  attentive;  but  I  dare 
not  yet  hope  for  any  lasting  effects.  Some  are  displeased,  and 
have  left  the  meeting ;  but  there  are  three  come  from  other 
meetings  for  one  who  goes  away.  The  power  of  novelty, 
however,  is  great,  and  when  that  is  over,  I  expect  there  will 
be  less  attention,  and  less  crowded  meetings.'^ 
#  *  #  *= 

"  I  understand  there  is  quite  a  revival  of  religion  at  North 
Yarmouth,  about  a  dozen  miles  from  this  place.  There  have 
already  been  two  or  three  there,  and  they  seem  to  be  remark- 
ably favored.  One  memorable  instance,  which  has  lately 
taken  place,  I  have  just  heard.  Three  females,  the  wives  of 
three  sea-captains  who  were  all  at  sea  in  different  parts  of  the 
world,  were  deeply  impressed,  and,  after  severe  convictions, 
obtained  comfort.  Just  about  the  same  time,  all  their  absent 
husbands  were  converted  at  sea.  The  wives,  meanwhile, 
were  anxious  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  their  husbands,  and 
the  husbands  were  no  less  concerned  for  their  wives.  Judge 
what  a  happy  meeting  they  must  have  had  when  they  found 
what  God  had  done  for  each  other  during  their  separation. 
The  attention  is  still  increasing,  and  there  have  been  about 
thirty  added  to  the  church.'" 

*^  September  19. 

"  I  have  been  ill  a  week  of  the  influenza,  which  attacked 
me  pretty  severely.  It  seems  as  if  it  v/as  sent  to  afford  a  fresh 
opportunity  for  displaying  the  unwearied  care  and  kindness  of 
our  heavenly  Father,  in  raising  up  friends  whenever  I  want 
them.  In  this  case,  he  has  provided  me  a  nurse  and  a  mother 
in  the  woman  who  presides  over  the  family  in  Mrs.  K's  ab- 
sence. She  has  been  doubting  respecting  her  state,  and  her 
right  to  join  the  church,  for  some  years  ;  and  was  so  thankful 
because  I  conversed  with  her  on  these  subjects,  that  she  was 


104  MEMOIR  OF 

ready  to  kill  me  with  kindness.  In  addition  to  this,  I  have 
been  overwhelmed  with  preserves,  jellies,  &c.  of  the  richest 
kinds,  from  all  parts.  Some  have  sent  them  in,  from  whom  I 
should  have  little  expected  it.  It  seems  as  if  God  were  put- 
ting it  to  trial,  whether  my  insensible  heart  can  be  wrought 
upon  by  mercies.  I  fear  the  result  of  the  trial  will  be,  that 
nothing  but  severe  judgments  will  answer. 

"  I  sometimes  think  it  strange,  that,  when  God  is  so  ready 
to  bestow  mercies,  he  does  not  enable  us  to  receive  them  with 
more  gratitude,  and  why  he  seems  less  ready  to  give  us  grace 
to  conquer  pride  and  self  Pray  for  me,  my  dear  parents,  that 
I  may  be  enabled  to  conquer  them." 

"  September  26. 

'*  I  am,  and  have  been,  for  some  days,  in  a  great  dilemma. 
Last  Monday,  I  had  an  application  to  preach  for  a  new  society 
here,  which  Mr.  S.,  the  missionary,  has  lately  drawn  together. 
They  are  building  a  meeting-house,  and  expect  to  be  incorpo- 
rated at  the  next  session  of  the  legislature.  They  have  heard 
me  at  Mr.  K's,  and  intimated  that,  if  I  would  come,  they 
should  probably  settle  me,  as  one  man  had  offered  a  hundred 
pounds  to  the  society  on  that  condition,  and  thirty  more  had 
oifered  to  subscribe  for  pews.  On  Tuesday,  I  had  an  invita- 
tion from  Westboro'  to  come  immediately,  and  another  from 
Gorham.  They  have  also  applied  to  me  to  come  to  Dr. 
Deane's  parish,  and  preach  for  them  ;  and  now,  this  morning, 
Mr.  Kellogg  has  a  letter  from  Portsmouth,  wishing  me  to 
come  there  immediately.  On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  K.  insists 
upon  it,  that  I  ought  to  stay  with  him  through  the  month  of 
October.  There  seems  to  be  some  attention  excited,  and  two 
persons  have  been  convinced,  and  I  hope  converted,  since  I 
have  been  here.  It  is,  I  find,  Mr.  K's  plan,  if  I  should 
prove  popular  enough,  to  have  a  new  society,  and  unite  it 
with  his  own  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  have  one  parish  in 
two  societies,  and  two  ministers  to  preach  in  each  house  alter- 
nately. 

"  Now,  my  dear  parents,  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  am  so  m.uch 
afraid  that  I  shall  be  left  to  lean  to  my  own  understanding, 
that  I  have  no  comfort.  I  wish  to  go  to  Portsmouth,  because 
it  is  on  my  way  home  ;  but  principally  because  the  society 
there  is  in  a  bad  state,  and  in  great  danger  of  breaking  up  and 
going  to  the  Universalists.  On  the  other  hand,  there  seems  to 
be  a  door  opened  for  great  usefulness  here ;  and  Providence 
has,  in  some  measure,  owned  my  labors,  and  the  people 
seem  very  anxious  to  have  me  stay.     If  one  could  only  hear 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  105 

the  Spirit,  as  a  voice  behind  him,  saying,  ^  This  is  the  way, 
walk  in  it,' — it  seems  duty  would  be  easily  discovered.  1 
know  that  there  is  no  need  of  being  uneasy,  when  we  have 
done  the  best  we  can  to  discover  the  path  of  duty  ;  but  there 
is  so  much  self-seeking  in  every  thing  I  do,  that  I  can- 
not be  sure  I  have  sincerely  sought  to  discover  the  path  of 
duty.  It  is  such  a  dreadful  thing  to  be  left  to  follow  one's 
own  guidance.     My  dear  father,  do  write  to  me." 

The  following  sentences  from  his  diary  will  be  regarded 
as  a  curiosity  by  those  who  are  acquainted  with  Dr.  Payson's 
eminence  as  a  ready  speaker  : — 

"  Sept.  25.  In  the  evening,  went  to  a  conference,  and  for 
the  first  time  expounded  extempore.     Made  out  poorly." 

His  rapidly  rising  fame,  and  the  flattering  attentions  paid 
him  as  a  preacher,  injurious  as  they  can  hardly  fail  to  be,  did 
not  divert  Mr.  Payson  from  the  great  object  of  the  ministry  of 
reconciliation.  If  his  desire  for  personal  holiness  was  ex- 
ceeded by  any  other,  it  was  by  the  desire  of  the  salvation  of 
sinners. 

"  Sept.  27.  Sab.  Was  favored  with  great  and  unusual  as- 
sistance both  parts  of  the  day,  and  the  people  were  remarkably 
serious  and  attentive.  Came  home  overwhelmed  with  a  sense 
of  the  astonishing  goodness  of  God.  Felt  grateful,  humble, 
and  contrite,  and  was  enabled  to  ascribe  all  the  glory  to  God. 
In  the  evening,  was  favored  with  great  faith  and  fervency  in 
prayer.  It  seemed  as  if  God  would  deny  me  nothing,  and  I 
wrestled  for  multitudes  of  souls,  and  could  not  help  hoping 
there  would  be  some  revival  here. 

"  Sept.  28.  Found  that  my  labors  have  not  been  altogether 
without  eifect.  Was  favored  with  the  greatest  degree  of  free- 
dom and  fervency  in  interceding  for  others.  I  seemed  to 
travail  in  birth  with  poor  sinners,  and  could  not  help  hoping 
that  God  is  about  to  do  something  for  his  glory  and  the  good 
of  souls. 

"  Sept.  29.  Was  considerably  affected  with  a  view  of  the 
awful  condition  of  sinners,  and  was  favored  with  some  freedom 
in  praying  for  them. — I  know  not  what  to  think,  but  at  pres- 
ent there  seem  to  be  some  indications  in  Providence,  that  this 
is  to  be  my  station  in  the  vineyard.  I  desire  to  bless  God, 
that  he  scarcely  suffers  me  either  to  hope  or  fear  the  event, 
but  to  feel  resigned  to  whatever  he  may  appoint. 


106  MEMOIR  OF 

"  Sept.  30.  Felt  much  of  a  dependent,  confiding,  child-like 
spirit.  God  is  doing  great  things  for  me.  I  never  enjoyed 
such  a  season  before,  as  I  have  for  these  three  days  past.  My 
heart  overflows  with  love  and  thankfulness  to  God,  and  pity 
for  poor  sinners. 

*'  Oct.  4.  Went  to  meeting  with  more  of  a  solemn  frame 
than  usual.  Was  greatly  assisted,  and  the  congregation  was 
apparently  very  solemn  and  devout.  Was  ready  to  sink,  to 
see  how  easily  the  impression  seemed  to  wear  off. 

"  Oct.  7.  Visited  two  persons  under  conviction,  conversed 
and  prayed  with  them.  Had  a  most  refreshing  season  in  se-\ 
cret  prayer.  Renewed  covenant  with  God.  My  soul  seemed  \ 
to  dilate  and  expand  with  happiness.  All  the  stores  of  divine 
grace  were  opened,  and  I  took  freely  for  myself  and  others. 
Was  assisted  to  plead  for  poor  sinners. 

*'  Oct.  8.  Was  favored  with  clear  displays  of  the  divine 
glory  this  morning,  and  was  enabled  to  rejoice  in  God  with 
joy  unspeakable.  Felt  sweetly  humbled  and  resigned  to  every 
thing  which  should  befall  me.  In  the  afternoon,  preached  a 
lecture,  and  was  left  dry  and  barren.  In  the  evening,  preach- 
ed another,  and  was  very  greatly  assisted.  Came  home  hum- 
bled in  the  dust  under  some  stirrings  of  spiritual  pride,  which 
I  could  not  repress.  Was  favored  with  a  most  refreshing  sea- 
son in  secret  prayer.  Felt  that  love  which  casteth  out  fear, 
and  hung  on  the  bosom  of  my  God  with  inexpressible  pleasure. 
The  Scriptures  too  were  exceedingly  sweet.  Had  been  in 
some  perplexity  respecting  the;  path  of  duty  ;  but  was  helped 
to  roll  the  whole  burden  upon  Him. 

"  Oct.  9.  Was  visited  by  a  minister  who  heard  me  preach 
last  evening,  and  received  many  valuable  hints  from  him  re- 
specting my  feelings  in  prayer  and  preaching. 

"  Oct.  11.  Never  was  in  such  an  agony  before  in  wres- 
tling for  mercies,  especially  in  behalf  of  poor  souls,  and  for  a 
work  of  religion  in  this  place.  My  soul  seemed  as  if  it  would 
leave  the  body,  and  mount  to  heaven  in  the  most  ardent  de- 
sires for  their  salvation.  Went  by  invitation  to  spend  the 
evening  in  an  irreligious  family.  Found  several  assembled, 
and,  to  my  very  great  but  pleasing  surprise,  the  conversation 
took  a  very  serious,  religious  turn.  Came  home  hoping  that 
God  was  on  the  point  of  doing  something  in  this  place,  but 
was  so  worn  out,  that  I  had  little  life  in  prayer. 

"  Oct.  16.  Church  meeting — a  profitable  and  refreshing 
time.  Some  new  persons  are  awakened  ;  Christians  are  stir- 
red up,  and  there  is  every  reason  to  hope  God  is  on  the  point 
of  appearing  for  us. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  107 

*'  Oct.  17.  Was  enabled,  in  some  measure,  to  mourn  over 
my  pride  and  selfishness,  unbelief,  and  hardness  of  heart. 
Having  last  evening  proposed  to  the  church  that  we  should 
spend  an  hour  this  evening  in  prayer,  separately,  for  the  out- 
pouring of  the  Spirit,  attempted  to  pray,  but  feared  my  mo- 
tives were  selfish.  However,  prayed  that  God's  people  might 
not  be  ashamed  on  my  account. 

"  Was  informed  that  the  church  and  congregation  had  given 
me  a  unanimous  call.  I  know  not  what  Providence  intends 
by  this.  Went  and  spread  the  matter  before  God,  and  en- 
treated him  to  overrule  all  things  to  his  own  glory. 

"  Oct.  19.  Spent  the  whole  day  in  conversing  with  per- 
sons exercised  in  their  minds.  In  the  evening,  visited  and 
prayed  with  a  number  of  persons,  who  met  for  that  purpose. 

"  Oct.  20.  Felt  something  of  the  constraining  influence  of 
the  love  of  Christ.  For  some  nights  past,  have  been  laboring 
in  my  sleep  with  poor  souls.  Felt  strong  in  the  Lord  and  in 
the  power  of  his  might.  In  the  afternoon,  went  to  visit  two 
persons  in  distress,  and  found  them  in  a  hopeful  way.  In  the 
evening,  preached  a  lecture  extempore.  Was  not  much  as- 
sisted myself,  but  what  was  said  seemed  to  come  with  power. 
Many  were  in  tears,  and  all  seemed  stirred  up  ;  so  that,  though 
I  went  crushed  down  under  discouragement,  I  came  back  re- 
joicing. 

"  Oct.  22.  Began  to  feel  more  clear  respecting  my  com- 
pliance with  the  call  I  have  received. 

''  Oct.  23.  Was  left  to  murmur  and  feel  impatient,  and  my 
proud,  unhumbled  heart  rose  against  God ;  but  he  was  gra- 
ciously pleased  to  touch  my  heart,  and  bring  me  on  my  knees 
before  him,  and  thus  I  obtained  pardon.  In  the  evening,  at- 
tended a  conference,  and  preached.  Was  very  much  shut  up, 
but  found  it  was  a  most  refreshing  season  to  many  of  God's 
people,  so  that  I  was  astonished  to  see  how  God  could  work 
by  the  most  feeble  means. 

"  Oct.  24.  Went  to  visit  a  man  almost  in  despair.  He 
talked  like  a  Christian,  but  was  in  dreadful  distress,  and  re- 
jected all  comfort.     Prayed  with  him,  but  in  vain. 

"  Oct.  25.  Visited  and  prayed  with  a  sick  woman.  Found 
her  and  her  husband  under  strong  convictions.  In  the  even- 
ing, was  visited  by  persons  under  concern  of  mind,  and  con- 
versed with  them. 

"  Oct.  27.  In  the  evening,  attended  a  conference,  and 
preached  to  a  crowded  and  solemn  audience.  Saw  the  hand 
of  God  evidently  appearing  in  it,  and  came  home  strengthen- 
ed, though  I  had  gone  much  cast  down. 


108  MEMOIR  OF 

*'  Oct.  28.  Felt  some  gratitude  and  humility  this  morning. 
Wondered  how  God  could  choose  such  a  worthless  wretch  to 
bestow  such  favors  upon.  Dined  with  *  *  *,  a  lawyer,  and 
had  much  religious  conversation  with  him,  with  which  he 
seemed  much  affected.  In  the  evening,  met  a  number  who 
were  under  serious  impressions.  Conversed  and  prayed  with 
theni. 

"  Oct.  29.  Was  greatly  drawn  out  in  prayer  for  a  continu- 
ance of  God's  presence,  and  for  myself  and  some  particular 
friends.  Spent  the  day  in  visiting  a  number  of  persons  who 
were  under  concern,  and  found  that  some  who  had  been  dear 
to  my  heart,  and  who  I  could  hardly  hope  were  under  convic- 
tion, appeared  to  have  met  with  a  real  change.  Was  over- 
whelmed with  wonder,  love,  and  gratitude,  at  the  goodness  of 
God  ;  but,  as  an  offset  to  this,  was  informed  of  some  injurious 
observations,  and  was,  moreover,  harassed  and  almost  distract- 
ed with  doubts  where  Providence  called  me  to  settle ;  but  was 
able,  at  length,  to  cast  the  burden  upon  the  Lord." 

On  the  30th  of  October,  he  set  out  on  a  journey  to  his  fa- 
ther's, taking  Portsmouth  on  his  way,  where  he  preached  on 
the  Sabbath,  and  received  a  request  from  the  people  to  tarry 
among  them,  which  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  decline.  He  reached 
home  November  3,  and  spent  the  following  day  in  conversing 
with  his  friends  : — "  Consulted  them  respecting  my  call,  and 
found  that  they  were  unanimous  in  advising  me  to  accept  the 
call  of  Mr.  Kellogg's  parish.  Rejoiced  to  see  my  path  made 
plain  before  me." 

"  Nov.  6.  Parted  from  my  friends  with  prayer,  and  set  out 
for  Portsmouth  in  a  violent  storm,  which  continued  most  of 
the  day.  Was  harassed  with  storms  within,  part  of  the  way, 
but  afterwards  was  calm. 

"  Nov.  8.  Was  favored  with  a  most  sweet,  refreshing  sea- 
son, before  meeting,  in  secret  prayer.  Preached  three  times, 
the  last  to  a  crowded  and  solemn  assembly.  Was  invited  to 
stay  and  preach  on  probation,  but  was  obliged  to  decline. 

''Nov.  9.  Rode  to  Portland.  Was  favored  on  the  road 
with  very  clear  manifestations  of  God's  love.  Felt  most  ar- 
dent emotions  of  gratitude,  with  full  resolutions  to  devote  my- 
self to  the  service  of  God.  Was  overwhelmed  with  a  sense  of 
his  mercies,  and  my  own  unworthiness. 

''Nov.  10.  Had  a  deep  sense  of  the  difficulty  and  impor- 
tance of  the  gospel  ministry,  and  of  my  own  utter  insufficiency 
for  it.     Was  ready  to  sink  under  it,  till  in  some  measure  re- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  109 

lieved  by  a  view  of  the  fulness  and  sufficiency  of  Christ. 
Moses  and  Jeremiah  were  very  encouraging  examples. 

^^  Nov.  13.  In  the  evening,  attended  a  church  confer- 
ence, and  preached.  Divine  truth,  though  in  an  humble  garb, 
came  with  great  power,  and  the  hearers  seemed  much  affected. 
After  coming  home,  heard  of  some  difficulty,  made  by  one  of 
the  church  members,  respecting  the  baptismal  covenant,  which 
I  wish  to  have  given  up.     Committed  the  case  to  God. 

'^  Nov.  15.  Preached  and  read  my  affirmative  answer  to  the 
call.  Was  favored  with  liberty,  and  the  people  seemed  to  be 
affected. 

"  Nov.  17.  Visited  a  sick  man ;  found  him  partly  deranged, 
clasping  a  Bible  to  his  breast,  which  he  would  not  suffer  to  h(j 
taken  from  him. 

^^  Nov.  30.  Very  unwell.  From  some  symptoms,  feel  ap- 
prehensive that  my  cough  may  terminate  in  a  consumption  ; 
but  the  thought  is  not  disagreeable.  The  only  thing  painful 
about  it  is  the  pain  it  would  give  my  parents. 

^^  Dec.  1.  Had  a  sleepless,  painful  night,  but,  through  di- 
vine goodness,  was  kept  patient,  and  even  cheerful.  Was  very 
sick  in  the  morning. 

^^  Dec.  3.  Still  quite  unwell,  but  had  a  sight  of  my  neces- 
sities, and  was  helped  to  cry  out  for  assistance. — P.  M.  Had 
a  sweet  season  in  prayer.  Could  pray  sincerely,  that  others 
might  be  exalted  above  me  in  gifts  and  graces,  and  that  souls 
might  be  converted,  let  who  would  be  the  instrument.  Felt 
weaned  from  the  world,  and  resigned  to  whatever  might  befall 
me. 

"  Dec  4.  Extremely  weak.  Am  convinced  that  I  cannot 
live  many  years,  if  many  months.  Went  out  to  see  a  sick 
person,  and  took  more  cold. 

"  Dec.  7.  Rose  early  ;  was  in  a  cloudy  kind  of  frame. 
Visited  and  prayed  with  a  number  of  sick  people.  In  the 
evening,  was  favored  with  a  deep  view  of  the  importance  and 
magnitude  of  the  ministry,  and  had  much  freedom  in  crying 
for  grace  to  help. 

"  Dec.  9.  Though  I  have  less  sensible  comfort,  faith  seems 
to  be  in  exercise,  and  I  will  still  trust  in  God,  though  he  slay  me. 

"  Dec.  10.     Was  seized  with  the  symptoms  of  a  fever. 

"  Dec.  11.  Begin  to  think  seriously  that  my  time  is  short. 
My  lungs  appear  to  be  deeply  affected,  and  the  result  may  be 
fatal. 

'^  Dec.  12.     Had  a  melting  season  in  prayer  this  morning. 
Felt  viler  than  the  vilest.     Spent  the  evening  with  my  father, 
who  came  to  attend  the  ordination. 
10 


110  MEMOIR  OF 

"  Dec.  14.  My  body  and  mind  seemed  alike  weak  and  in- 
capable of  exertion.  My  cough  increases,  and  bids  fair  to 
terminate  in  a  consumption. 

"  Dec.  15.  Rose  extremely  unwell,  and  continued  so  dur- 
ing the  day.  Could  do  nothing.  In  the  evening,  tried  to 
pray,  but  was  soon  interrupted  by  weakness  and  lassitude. 

^^  Dec.  16.  Ordination.  Rose  very  early,  and  renewed 
my  covenant  with  God,  taking  him  for  my  Portion,  and  giving 
myself  up  to  him  for  the  work  of  the  gospel  ministry.  Had 
considerable  assistance  in  this,  and  in  seeking  ministerial  qual- 
ifications ;  but  my  strength  failed.  Felt  in  something  of  a 
quiet,  happy,  dependent  frame  in  meeting,  especially  during 
the  ordaining  prayer." 

It  is  peculiarly  gratifying  to  peruse  such  a  record  as  this 
last  paragraph  contains,  of  the  state  of  his  mind  on  this  most 
solemn  and  eventful  occasion.  That  a  mind  so  highly  suscep- 
tible, and  so  frequently  borne  down  to  the  very  dust  by  its 
overwhelming  sense  of  ministerial  responsibility,  should  be 
preserved  in  this  "  quiet,  happy,  dependent  frame,"  while  in 
the  act  of  assuming  the  most  weighty  and  momentous  of  all 
trusts  ever  committed  to  man, — of  consummating  that  sacred 
connexion  which  was  to  affect  the  everlasting  weal  or  wo  of 
numerous  undying  souls, — can  be  ascribed  to  nothing  but  the 
special  favor  of  God.  It  should  be  noticed  in  honor  of  His 
faithfulness,  who  will  not  desert  his  devoted  servants  in  any 
trying  emergency.  In  anticipation  of  this  crisis,  and  under 
the  responsibilities  of  the  labors  which  were  conducting  him 
to  it,  he  had  habitually  cast  his  burden  upon  the  Lord ;  and  by 
the  Lord  was  that  burden  sustained.  His  mind  was  kept  in 
peace,  for  it  was  stayed  on  God. 

"  A  man's  heart  deviseth  his  way,  but  the  Lord  directeth 
his  steps."  Mr.  Payson  went  to  Portland  with  no  expectation, 
probably,  of  making  that  his  permanent  residence,  but  merely 
to  supply,  temporarily,  Mr.  Kellogg's  pulpit.  Mr.  K.,  undoubt- 
edly, had  a  further  design  in  procuring  his  assistance,  even 
from  the  first ;  but  its  accomplishment  was  suspended  on  cir- 
cumstances yet  to  be  developed,  and  it  could  not,  therefore, 
be  properly  disclosed.  But  when,  on  experiment,  he  saw  the 
young  preacher's  labors  so  well  received  by  the  people,  and  so 
evidently  blessed,  he  spared  no  endeavors  to  retain  his  valua- 
ble services,  which  he  showed  himself  willing  to  do  at  the  ex- 
pense of  any  reasonable  sacrifice. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  1 1 1 

With  the  feelings,  and  principles,  and  rigid  self-discipline, 
the  consciousness  of  human  guilt  and  weakness,  and  of  the 
consequent  necessity  of  an  atonement,  and  a  divine  power  to 
work  all  our  works  in  us  and  for  us,  which  are  to  be  recog- 
nised in  the  extracts  that  have  been  given,  it  is  not  to  be  pre- 
sumed that  Mr.  Payson  would  show  much  indulgence  to  a  lax 
theology,  which  degrades  the  Saviour,  and  flatters  man.  It 
was  from  deep-rooted  principle,  that  he  could  not  hold  fellow- 
ship with  such  doctrines,  and  that  he  abstained,  in  his  minis- 
terial intercourse,  from  all  official  acts,  which  would  be  inter- 
preted as  a  token  of  such  fellowship.  Hence  he  endured  no 
small  share  of  obloquy,  for  which  those  of  a  different  faith  are 
not  exclusively  responsible. 

The  steadfastness  with  which  he  avoided  giving  the  least 
countenance  to  what  he  regarded  as  "  another  gospel,"  must 
have  been  greatly  confirmed  by  the  exercises  at  his  ordination. 
The  sermon  on  this  occasion,  preached  by  his  venerable  father, 
was  founded  on  1  Tim.  v.  22, — Lay  hands  suddenly  on  no  man, 
neither  he  partaker  of  other  men^s  sins, — and  well  illustrated  the 
apostle's  *  caution  against  introducing  persons  suddenly  into 
the  ministry,  and  the  reason  with  which  that  caution  is  en- 
forced.' Some  portions  of  it  seem  to  have  been  almost  pro- 
phetic ;  they  show,  at  least,  that  the  author  was  '  able  to  discern 
the  signs  of  the  time.'  The  paragraphs  containing  the  appli- 
cation of  the  subject  to  his  son,  the  pastor  elect,  will  be  here 
inserted.  Though  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were 
uttered  were  suited  to  render  them  peculiarly  impressive,  they 
will  be  found  to  possess  an  interest  and  importance  to  com- 
mend them  to  general  attention,  independently  of  the  occasion. 

**  In  fulfilling  his  purposes  of  mercy  to  our  apostate  race,  it 
has  pleased  a  sovereign  God  to  constitute  an  order  of  men  to 
preach  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ,  and  thus  to  co-ope- 
rate with  himself  in  accomplishing  that  object,  upon  which  his 
adorable  Son  came  into  our  world.  That  it  is  permitted  me 
to  assist  in  introducing  you,  my  dear  son,  into  this  highly  fa- 
vored number,  as  a  fellow-worker  with  God  in  this  glorious 
design,  is  an  act  of  his  grace,  for  which  I  hope  our  hearts  are 
unitedly  adoring  his  sovereign  love.  How  astonishing  is  the 
goodness  of  God  to  his  unworthy  creatures !  How  great  the 
honor  of  being  admitted  to  share  in  the  glory  of  that  work 
which  is  all  his  own  !  This,  however,  is  not  the  hour  of  tri- 
umph. Your  feelings,  I  hope,  accord  with  that  maxim  of  wis- 
dom— "  Let  not  him  who  girdeth  on  the  harness  boast  him- 
self as  he  that  putteth  it  off."     Under  the  wise  and  holy  gov- 


112  MEMOIR  OF 

ernment  of  God,  no  station  or  office  confers  honor,  but  in  con- 
nexion with  a  faithful  discharge  of  its  duties.  If  we  would 
obtain  that  honor  which  cometh  from  God  only,  it  must  be  by 
*'  patient  continuance  in  well  doing.''  The  glories  which  now 
crown  the  human  nature  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  were  won 
in  the  field  of  battle.  They  are  the  just  reward  of  invincible 
virtue  and  unexampled  benevolence.  To  be  admitted  into  the 
number  of  his  ministers,  is  honorable  for  this  reason  only,  that, 
we  are  thus  brought  into  the  field,  where  the  highest  honor  is 
to  be  won ;  where  all  the  virtuous  feelings  of  the  heart  have 
full  play ;  and  where  an  opportunity  is  afforded  of  bringing 
into  action  all  the  energies  of  the  soul,  in  a  service  most  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  salvation  of 
mankind.  In  this  distinguished  station,  we  are  eminently  a 
spectacle  to  the  world,  to  angels,  and  to  men. 

*'  Your  path  of  duty  is  made  plain  by  the  light  both  of  pre- 
cept and  example.  Every  motive  which  can  influence  the  hu- 
man mind  prompts  you  to  fidelity ;  and,  for  your  encouragement 
to  go  boldly  forward  in  the  line  of  duty,  almighty  love  opens 
its  inexhaustible  stores  of  wisdom,  grace,  and  strength,  invit- 
ing you  to  drav/  near  and  receive  according  to  your  necessi- 
ties. The  object  of  the  observations,  which  have  now  been 
made,  is  to  impress  you  with  a  sense  of  the  importance  of  in- 
vestigating, so  far  as  human  imperfection  will  admit,  the  char- 
acters and  qualifications  of  candidates  for  the  ministerial  office. 
To  me  this  subject  appears  of  vast,  and,  from  the  character  of 
the  age  in  which  we  live,  of  increasing  importance.  It  is  far 
from  being  my  wish  to  see  you  contending  for  particular  forms 
of  expressing  divine  truth,  or  zealously  engaged  in  supporting 
points,  respecting  which,  through  remaining  imperfection, 
wise  and  good  men  are  divided.  This  is  far  beneath  the  dig- 
nified object,  which  ought  to  engage  the  attention  of  the  Chris- 
tian minister.  But,  if  my  most  earnest  entreaties,  if  a  father's 
solemn  charge,  have  any  influence,  never  will  you  be  induced  to 
employ  the  powers  of  ordination,  with  which  you  are  now  to  be 
invested,  in  raising  the  enemies  of  God  and  his  truth  to  the 
pernicious  eminence  of  teachers  in  the  Christian  church.  In 
pursuing  this  leading  object,  it  has  been  my  aim  to  present  to 
your  mind  the  distinguishing  characteristics  of  the  pastor  after 
God's  own  heart.  I  hope  no  earthly  attainment  appears  in 
your  view  so  desirable  as  that  meekness  and  faithfulness,  that 
superiority  to  selfish  views,  and  those  fervent,  holy,  disinter- 
ested aflfections,  of  which  a  sketch  has  now  been  exhibited. 
May  they  ever  be  the  sole  objects  of  your  ambition,  and  be 
pursued  with  all  that  ardor,  activity,  diligence,  and  perseve* 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  113 

ranee,  with  which  the  children  of  this  world  pursue  its  pleas- 
ures, its  honors,  and  wealth. 

'*  In  laboring  to  form  your  mind  to  ministerial  fidelity,  may 
I  not  hope  for  some  assistance  from  that  active  principle  of  fil- 
ial affection,  which  has  ever  rendered  you  studious  of  a  father's 
comfort  ?  I  can  think  with  calmness,  nay,  with  a  degree  of 
pleasure,  of  your  suffering  for  righteousness'  sake;  and,  should 
the  world  pour  upon  you  its  obloquy,  its  scorn  and  reproach, 
for  your  fidelity  to  your  Master's  cause,  a  father's  heart  would 
still  embrace  you  with,  if  possible,  incre.ased  fondness.  But  to 
see  you  losing  sight  of  the  great  objects  which  ought  to  en- 
gage your  attention,  courting  the  applause  of  the  world,  infect- 
ed with  the  infidel  sentiments  of  the  day,  and  neglecting  the 
immortal  interests  of  those  now  about  to  be  committed  to  your 
care ; — this,  O  my  son,  I  could  not  support.  It  would  bring 
down  my  gray  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  But  is  it  possi- 
ble, that  in  such  a  cause,  with  such  motives  to  fidelity,  and 
with  prospects,  may  I  not  add,  so  peculiarly  pleasing  as  those 
which  now  surround  you,  you  should,  notwithstanding,  prove  un- 
faithful ?  It  is  possible ;  for  there  is  nothing  too  base,  too  un- 
grateful, or  destructive  of  our  own  most  important  interests,  for 
human  nature  to  commit ;  and,  unless  the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
preserve  you,  the  glory  of  God  will  be  forgotten,  your  Saviour  will 
by  you  be  crucified  afresh,  and  his  cause  exposed  to  shame  ;  your 
sacred  character  will  become  your  reproach,  and,  instead  of 
the  blessings  of  many  ready  to  perish,  you  will  accumulate  the 
curses  of  perishing  souls  upon  your  head.  May  your  preservation 
from  this  awful  fate  be  the  theme  of  our  future  eternal  praises. 

"  Contemplating  the  sublimity  of  the  apostolic  pattern,  do 
you  ask,  How  shall  I  attain  to  such  activity,  such  zeal,  such 
purity,  such  disinterestedness,  and  ardor  of  affection  ?  Remem- 
ber Paul  was  nothing.  He  himself  makes  the  confession.  "  It 
is  not  I,"  says  he,  "  that  live,  but  Christ,  that  liveth  in  me ; 
and  the  life  which  I  now  live  in  the  flesh,  I  live  by  faith  on 
the  Son  of  God."  Thus  you  may  live  ;  thus  you  may  come 
off  more  than  a  conqueror,  and,  though  in  yourself  but  a  worm, 
may  thresh  the  mountains  of  opposition,  and  beat  them  small 
as  the  dust.  Should  the  blessed  Redeemer  grant — and  grant 
he  will,  if  you  seek  them — the  influences  of  his  Spirit,  your  hap- 
py soul  will  mount  up  as  on  eagles'  wings,  and  rise  to  all  those 
heights  of  holy  affection,  to  which  the  great  apostle  soared. 
But  I  must  set  bounds  to  the  effusion  of  feelings,  which  have, 
perhaps,  already  exhausted  the  patience  of  this  assembly.  Re- 
ceive, my  dear  son,  in  one  word,  the  sum  of  all  a  father's  fond 
wishes  :  "  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death." 
10* 


I J  4  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

His  concern  for  his  floch — reverse  in  his  temporal  prospects — 
is  taken  from  his  work  hy  sickness. 

The  wisdom  of  God  shines  with  most  amiable  lustre  in  the 
institutions  of  religion.  The  intelligent  and  devout  observer 
sees  in  them  evident  traces  of  a  divine  original.  They  were 
ordained  by  him  who  "  knew  what  was  in  man,"  and  recog- 
nise most  advantageously  the  leading  principles  of  human 
nature.  They  have  multiplied  the  relations  which  subsist 
among  men,  as  social  beings,  and  given  to  social  qualities  an 
incalculable  value.  They  cement  every  tie  which  binds  man 
to  his  fellow,  and  sweeten  the  enjoyments  of  every  connexion. 
They  heighten  all  the  endearments  of  domestic  life,  and  are 
designed  and  adapted  to  bring  all  mankind  into  one  harmoni- 
ous and  happy  family.  Though  they  do  not  obliterate  the 
distinctions  of  rank  and  office,  and  especially  that  of  a  teacher, 
tliey  instruct  '  the  head  not  to  say  to  the  foot,  I  have  no  need 
of  thee.'  In  the  church  of  Christ,  the  m.ost  closely-compacted 
and  endearing  brotherhood  which  exists  on  earth,  a  common, 
fraternal  affection  is  reciprocated  by  its  members — an  affec- 
tion growing  out  of,  and  continually  cherished  by,  their  mutual 
dependence,  their  common  wants,  and  the  sameness  of  their 
relation  to  their  Maker  and  Redeemer.  In  addition  to  this, 
there  is,  in  this  blood-bought  and  sacred  society,  the  relation 
of  pastor  and  flock,  which  swells  the  aggregate  of  benefit  re- 
ceived and  of  happiness  enjoyed,  in  proportion  to  the  numbers 
included  in  it.  And  when  this  relation  is  entered  into  from 
evangelical  motives,  and  with  a  right  spirit,  a  gushing  forth 
of  the  affections  is  felt,  which  was  never  felt  before — a  well- 
spring  is  opened,  which  time  cannot  dry  up,  and  which  ren- 
ders the  pastor's  labor  and  toil,  for  the  salvation  of  his  charge, 
his  choice  and  his  felicity. — Mr.  Pay  son  had  already  exhibited 
an  interest  in  the  welfare  of  souls,  and  a  desire  for  their  salva- 
tion, so  great  as  to  seem  almost  incapable  of  increase ;  but,  as 
soon  as  the  pastoral  relation  was  consummated,  he  regarded 
those  committed  to  his  oversight  with  an  appropriating,  an 
endearing  love,  which  identified  their  interests  and  happiness 
with  his  own. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  115 

**  Dec.  17.  Was  favored  with  freedom  and  assistance  in 
writing  and  prayer,  and  felt  a  strong  love  for  the  people  of  my 
charge.  In  the  evening,  attended  a  meeting  of  those  who  are 
under  concern,  and  had  some  assistance. 

^•'  Dec.  18.  Felt  in  a  sweet,  dependent  frame,  and  had  lib- 
erty to  cast  myself  and  parish  upon  God. 

*'  Dec.  19.  Awoke  twice,  after  a  day  of  excessive  fatigue, 
drenched  in  a  profuse  sweat,  and  concluded  that  my  time  was 
short. 

"  Dec.  20.  Sab.  Extremely  weak.  Felt  as  if  I  could  not 
preach.  In  the  afternoon,  preached  an  occasional  sermon, 
and  was  wonderfully  carried  through.     Blessed  be  God. 

'^  Dec.  21.  Had  a  sweet  season  in  prayer.  My  soul  felt 
strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of  his  might.  I  longed 
to  spend  and  be  spent  in  his  service,  and  wondered  at  his 
astonishing  goodness  to  such  an  unworthy  wretch.  Spent  the 
whole  day  in  visiting,  with  some  profit  and  pleasure.  In  the 
evening,  talked  to  a  number  of  people  on  the  nature  of  reli- 
gion. After  returning,  found  myself  much  exhausted.  Feel 
convinced  that  I  am  in  a  consumption,  and  may  as  well  die  as 
cease  my  exertions." 

His  illness  continued  severe  for  several  days,  so  that  he  was 
directed  by  his  physician  to  keep  within.  He  enjoyed,  on  the 
whole,  much  quietness  and  resignation,  but  says,  "  I  longed  to 
be  abroad  among  my  people."  Dec.  26,  ten  days  after  his  or- 
dination, he  expectorated  blood,  and  "  viewed  it  as  his  death- 
warrant,  but  felt  tolerably  calm  and  resigned."  Three  days 
later,  however,  he  is  found  preaching  an  eveniffg  lecture. 

The  calamities  occasioned  by  the  aggressions  of  foreign 
belligerents,  and  by  the  restrictions  imposed  on  commerce  by 
our  own  government,  fell  at  this  time  with  peculiar  weight 
upon  the  inhabitants  of  Portland.  The  darkest  season  through 
which  the  United  States  have  passed  since  their  independence, 
had  now  commenced.  The  distresses  of  the  times  are  the 
subject  of  frequent  allusion  by  Mr.  Payson  in  his  diary.  The 
stagnation  of  business,  the  failures  among  the  principal  mer- 
chants, the  hundreds  of  citizens  and  seamen  thrown  out  of 
employment,  and  left  destitute  of  the  means  of  subsistence, 
and  the  sufferings  of  the  poor,  called  forth  largely  his  sympa- 
thy. To  him,  the  town  seemed  threatened  with  universal 
bankruptcy  ;  and,  whether  with  good  reason  or  not,  he  con- 
sidered the  means  of  his  own  temporal  support  as  cut  off.  But 
the  tranquillity  of  his  mind  was  never  more  uniform  than  at 
this  calamitous  season  ;  and  the  object  of  his  supreme  desire 


116  MEMOIR  OP 

and  efforts  Was  to  turn  the  distresses  of  the  people  to  their 
spiritual  advantage,  rightly  judging,  that  "the  walls  of  Jerusa- 
lem might  be  built  in  troublous  times."  A  picture  of  these 
distresses,  as  they  appeared  to  him  at  the  time,  is  drawn  in  a 
letter  to  his  parents,  dated 

"  Portland,  Dec.  28,  1807. 

^'  When  father  was  here,  he  observed  that  hiy  prospects  were 
almost  too  happy  for  this  world.  They  were  so,  it  appears  ; 
for  they  are  now  as  unfavorable,  humanly  speaking,  as  they 
were  then  flattering.  The  prospect  of  war  has  produced  here 
such  a  scene  of  wretchedness  as  I  never  before  witnessed.  A 
large  number  of  the  most  wealthy  merchants  have  already 
failed,  and  numbers  more  are  daily  following,  so  that  we  are 
threatened  with  universal  bankruptcy.  Two  failures  alone 
have  thrown  at  least  three  hundred  persons,  besides  sailors, 
out  of  employ  ;  and  you  may  hence  conceive,  in  some  meas- 
ure, the  distress  which  the  whole  number  must  occasion.  The 
poor-house  is  already  full,  and  hundreds  are  yet  to  be  provided 
for,  who  have  depended  on  their  own  labor  for  daily  bread, 
and  who  have  neither  the  means  of  supporting  themselves 
here,  nor  of  removing  into  the  country.  Many,  who  have  been 
brought  up  in  affluence,  are  now  dependent  on  the  cold  cour- 
tesy of  creditors  for  a  protection  from  the  inclemency  of  the 
season.     These  things,   however,  are  but  the  beginning  of 

sorrows.     As  soon  as  the  news  of  these  failures  reach  , 

every  man  there,  who  has  a  hundred  dollars  owing  to  him  in 
Portland,  will  send  down  to  secure  it ;  and  the  general  stag- 
nation of  busmess  is  such,  that  a  man  who  is  possessed  of  ten 
thousand  dollars,  in  real  or  personal  estate,  may  not  be  able* 
to  answer  a  demand  of  five  hundred,  though  it  were  to  save 
him  from  ruin.  If  these  times  continue,  nine  tenths  of  the 
people  here  will  be  scattered  to  the  four  winds.  I  have  scarce- 
ly a  hope  of  receiving  more  than  enough  to  pay  my  board,  if 
I  should  stay  till  next  spring  ;  and  Mr.  K.  will  want  all  his 
salary  to  support  himself,  as  he  fears  that  all  his  property  is 
swallowed  up  in  the  general  destruction.  These  failures  have 
brought  to  light  many  instances  of  dishonesty  among  those  in 
whose  integrity  unbounded  confidence  was  placed.  And  now 
all  confidence  is  lost ;  no  man  will  trust  his  neighbor ;  but 
every  one  takes  even  his  brother  '  by  the  throat,  saying.  Pay 
me  that  thou  owest.'  But  I  cannot  describe,  and  I  doubt 
whether  you  can  conceive,  of  the  distress  we  are  in. 

"  And  now  you  will,  perhaps,  be  grieved  at  this  sudden  blast 
of  all  my  fine  prospects,  and  cry,  *  Poor  Edward  1'     But  you 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  117 

never  had  more  reason  to  rejoice  on  my  behalf,  and  to  cry, 
'  Rich  Edward  !'  than  now  ;  for,  blessed  be  God,  my  portion 
does  not  stand  on  such  tottering  foundations  as  to  be  shaken 
by  these  commotions.  My  dear  parents,  my  dear  sister,  do 
not  feel  one  emotion  of  sorrow  on  my  account,  but  rather  join 
with  me  in  blessing  God  that  he  keeps  me  quiet,  resigned,  and 
even  happy,  in  the  midst  of  these  troubles.  I  do  not  pretend 
not  to  feel  them,  however.  All  my  worldly  hopes  are,  appa- 
rently, destroyed  ;  and  many  of  those  who  are  now  ready  to 
be  turned  into  the  streets  are  the  dearest  friends  I  have  here ; 
not  to  mention  the  distress  of  the  poor,  who  will,  in  human 
probability,  soon  be  in  a  starving  condition.  In  these  circum- 
stances, it  is  impossible  not  to  feel.  Still,  if  God  is  pleased  to 
aiford  me  the  same  degree  of  support  which  he  has  hitherto,  I 
shall  be  more  happy  than  ever  I  was.  I  thought  I  knew,  be- 
fore, that  this  world  was  treacherous,  and  its  enjoyments  tran- 
sitory ;  but  these  things  have  taught  me  this  truth  so  much 
plainer,  and  weaned  me  so  much  more  from  creature  depen- 
dences, that  I  desire  to  consider  them  among  my  chief  mer- 
cies. It  has  long  been  my  prayer,  that  if  God  had  any  world- 
ly blessings  in  store  for  me,  he  would  be  pleased  to  give  me 
grace  instead  of  them,  or  change  them  into  spiritual  blessings ; 
and  now  he  begins  to  grant  my  request. — I  am  sorry  for  H.'s 
disappointment,  and  my  own  inability  to  assist  pa'  out  of  his 
difficulties,  which  I  once  hoped  I  should  be  able  to  do.  But 
I  trust  they  will  be  sanctified,  if  they  are  not  removed.  What 
a  blessed  portion  the  believer  has  in  the  word  of  God,  if  he 
has  only  a  hand  given  him  to  lay  hold  on  it !  But  too  often 
our  hands  are  withered,  and  heed  not  the  divine  command  to 
stretch  them  out. 

'*  I  tremble  for  our  poor  country.  I  fear  the  decree  has  gone 
out  against  her.  My  sins  have  helped  to  call  down  judgments 
upon  her,  and  I  desire  to  take  what  falls  to  my  share,  and  bless 
God  that  my  punishment  is  no  heavier,  and  no  more  propor- 
tioned to  my  deserts.  But  nothing  seems  too  bad  to  expect 
from  present  appearances.  If  we  escape  civil  war,  it  will  be 
well. 

''  January  5,  1808. 
"  I  would  not  finish  my  letter  before,  because  I  could 


say  nothing  favorable  respecting  my  health,  which  was  then 
worse  than  ever,  but,  blessed  be  God,  seems  now  unaccounta- 
bly restored. — The  tumult  in  town  has  subsided  into  a  dead 
calm  ;  the  embargo  has  put  a  stop  to  every  thing  like  business, 
and  people  have  now  nothing  to  do  but  attend  to  religion ;  and 


118  MEMOIR  OF 

we  endeavor  to  give  them  meetings  enough,  since  they  have 
leisure  to  attend  them.  Next  week,  we  purpose  to  keep  a 
town  fast,  on  account  of  our  distressed  situation.  I  am  not 
without  hopes  that  these  things  may  be  overruled  to  bring 
about  a  more  extensive  reformation.  The  attention  appears 
to  continue,  and  we  hear  of  new  instances  of  persons  under 
concern.  Feel  no  uneasiness  respecting  me.  The  Lord  is 
my  Shepherd  ;  I  shall  not  want.  The  people  are  very  kind, 
increasingly  so.  Some  of  our  young  converts  have  lost  their 
all,  and  had  their  houses  stripped  ;  and  it  does  my  heart  good 
to  see  them  cheerful  and  quiet  under  it ;  while  others,  who  have 
no  God,  have  lost  their  reason,  or,  worried  almost  incessantly, 
are  apparently  dying  of  a  broken  heart,  or  uttering  the  most 
bitter  and  distressing  complaints.  But  it  is  a  heart-rending 
sight  to  see  those  who  have  no  other  portion  stripped  naked 
of  all  worldly  good.  Their  gods  are  taken  away,  and  what 
have  they  more  ?" 

^^ Jan.  5.  I  find  myself,  from  day  to  day,  in  the  situation, 
of  a  poor  beggar,  with  nothing  to  plead  but  my  necessities. 
In  the  evening,  preached  to  a  serious  audience,  and  was  great- 
ly encouraged  to  hope  for  a  reformation  more  general.  Was 
much  drawn  out  in  prayer,  both  at  meeting  and  after  1  came 
home. 

^^  Jan.  6.  Hope  that  God  is  quickening  me  to  run  the  way 
of  his  commandments  with  a  more  enlarged  heart. 

^^  Jan.  10^  Preached,  and  baptized  seven  persons,  and  ad- 
ministered the  sacrament.  Felt  entirely  exhausted.  My  con- 
stitution seems  to  be  much  broken,  and  a  little  labor  wears 
me  out. 

"  Jan.  13.  This  day  was  devoted  to  fasting  and  prayer,  by 
the  town,  on  account  of  the  present  gloomy  appearances. 

^^  Jan.  14.  Hope  the  strong  workings  of  corruption  I  have 
experienced  will  make  me  more  humble,  and  the  gracious  par- 
don I  have  received,  more  thankful. 

^^  Jan.  17.  Sab.  Was  alarmed  by  cry  of  fire  during  family 
prayer.  It  did  considerable  damage,  but,  by  God's  goodness, 
was  got  under,  though  the  town  was  in  imminent  danger. 
Was  much  assisted  in  seeking  a  divine  blessing  on  all  our 
afflictions.  Had  no  meeting  in  the  forenoon.  In  the  afi:er- 
noon,  preached  with  some  liberty. 

'^  Jan.  22.  In  the  evening,  preached,  and  was  much  re- 
freshed and  strengthened  in  my  own  soul.  Found  the  Lord's 
work  is  going  on.  O  what  shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord  for 
all  his  benefits ! 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  119 

^^  Jan.  24.  Sab.  Was  favored  with  a  sweet  season  in  plead- 
ing for  the  divine  presence.  Hoped  that  God  would  make  this 
a  day  of  his  power  and  grace.  Was  greatly  assisted.  Have 
lately  been  favored  with  more  love  to  God,  and  zeal  for  Christ, 
than  I  used  to  have,  and  feel  more  compassion  for  sinners. 

'^Jan.  25.  Seem  to  have  some  respite  from  the  workings 
of  corruption.  Spent  the  day  in  visiting  my  people,  and  found 
many  somewhat  exercised.  In  the  evening,  attended  a  confer- 
ence with  inquirers.  Found  some  new  cases,  and  had  a  pleasant 
evening. 

"Jan.  26.  Felt  eager  desires  to  be  wholly  conformed  to 
Christ,  and  to  be  carried  away  with  the  constraining  influence 
of  his  love. 

"  Feb.  4.  Was  overwhelmed  with  wonder,  shame,  and  con- 
fusion, to  reflect  on  the  innumerable  mercies  I  had  received, 
and  the  ungrateful  returns  I  had  made.  In  the  afternoon, 
preached  at  the  poor-house,  and  found  some  of  them  much 
affected." 

Soon  after  this,  he  was  seized  with  a  violent  pleuritic  affec- 
tion, which  rendered  speaking  a  most  painful  and  difficult  ex- 
ercise. The  pain  continued  for  some  length  of  time,  attended 
by  various  discouraging  symptoms.  He  did  not  neglect  to  call 
in  medical  aid ;  and  the  prescriptions  of  physicians  were  par- 
tially blessed.  But  the  moment  he  felt  a  little  relieved,  he 
would  resume  his  labors,  *  go  to  a  conference,  take  more  cold, 
and  come  home  much  worse.'  Repeatedly  during  this  illness, 
when  he  was  necessarily  confined  to  his  room,  he  enters  a 
notice  of  this  kind — "  Spent  almost  the  whole  day  in  convers- 
ing with  persons  who  were  exercised  with  spiritual  trials;" 
and  every  such  day  was  one  of  great  fatigue,  at  the  close  of 
which  *  all  his  alarming  symptoms  would  return  with  great  vio- 
lence.' When  his  conversation  with  inquirers  was  not  pro- 
longed to  weariness,  it  proved  *  refreshing  to  his  spirits.' 
Though  he  found  it  '  trying  to  be  laid  aside  as  a  broken  vessel, 
when  the  people  were  willing  to  hear,'  he  could  still  bless  God 
for  sweet  resignation  to  the  divine  will.  "Could  not  feel  a 
wish  respecting  the  continuance  of  my  life ;  but  had  God  re- 
ferred the  matter  to  me,  I  should  refer  it  back  again  to  him. 
My  only  wish  was — if  I  lived — to  live  unto  the  Lord ;  and,  if 
I  died,  to  die  unto  the  Lord." 

In  the  latter  part  of  February,  his  physician  found  it  neces- 
sary to  forbid  his  preaching  for  several  Sabbaths  to  come,  and 
was  in  a  measure  successful  in  enforcing  the  prohibition,  as 
his  patient  does  not  appear  to  have  gone  out  to  any  religious 


120  MEMOIR  OF 

meeting  for  more  than  a  fortnight,  when  he  ventured  to  *  at- 
tend a  conference  with  those  under  concern,  where  he  found 
several  new  inquirers,  and  was  carried  through  beyond  expec- 
tation.' But  the  exposure  was  followed  by  a  dangerous  relapse, 
so  that  he  thought  his  "  health  irrecoverably  gone."  He  ex- 
presses no  "grief"  on  this  account,  except  as  it  'disabled  him 
from  attending  meeting  with  those  under  concern.' — But  the 
reader  will  prefer  to  learn  his  feelings  and  circumstances  from 
his  own  words  : — 

"  March  26.  Had  an  exceedingly  painful  night,  worse  than 
ever,  but  had  some  satisfaction  in  thinking  of  going  to  be  with 
Christ.  In  the  evening,  was  extremely  unwell,  and  suffered 
great  pain. 

'' 31arch  27.  Sab.  In  the  morning,  was  very  ill;  but  was 
carried  to  meeting  in  the  afternoon,  though  I  could  not  preach. 
Was  too  weak  to  have  much  comfort  at  meeting,  and  came 
home  very  low-spirited. 

'^  March  28.  Am  pretty  well  convinced  that  my  disease  is 
mortal.  My  mind  partakes  so  much  of  the  weakness  of  my 
body,  that  I  can  do  nothing  in  religion,  and  can  scarcely  refrain 
from  peevishness  and  fretting. 

^^  March  SO.  Had  a  most  sweet  and  refreshing  season  in 
secret  prayer  this  morning.  Felt  more  ardent  love  to  Christ 
than  I  have  for  some  time,  and  was  sweetly  melted  under  a 
sense  of  my  ingratitude.  Was  resigned  to  his  will  respect- 
ing me,  and  was  willing  to  depart  and  be  with  him. 

'^ Aprils.  Conversed  with  some  persons,  who  came  in  to 
see  me,  respecting  means  to  be  taken  for  the  suppression  of 
profanity  and  Sabbath  breaking. 

''  April  o.  Sab.  Was  able  to  attend  meeting  and  preach 
part  of  the  day.  Was  favored  with  some  liberty  at  the  sacra- 
ment, and  had  some  foretaste  of  heaven,  and  desire  to  enjoy  it. 
Am  much  afraid  the  reformation  is  going  off.  Was  assisted 
to  pray  that  the  work  might  go  on,  and  also  in  praying  for 
myself,  so  that  I  hope  the  Lord  has  been  pleased  to  strengthen 
me  on  this  occasion. 

"  April  4.  Had  unusual  earnestness  in  prayer  this  morning, 
both  for  myself  and  others,  and  was  sweetly  melted  in  reading 
the  divine  word.  Was  depressed  by  finding  that  the  town 
would  do  nothing  respecting  the  observance  of  the  Sabbath. 
Was  enabled  to  pour  out  my  sorrows  and  complaints  before 
God  with  some  degree  of  freedom. 

^^Aprill.  This  day  being  our  annual  fast,  I  endeavored 
to  humble  myself  before  God  for  my  personal  sins,  as  well  as 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  121 

our  public  transgressions,  to  renew  covenant  with  God,  and 
devote  myself  with  new  zeal  to  his  service.  Was  likewise 
assisted  in  pleading  with  God  for  more  grace,  and  life,  and 
light,  in  my  own  soul,  and  in  the  souls  of  my  people ;  and  that 
the  reformation  which  has  began  may  be  carried  on  gloriously 
and  triumphantly  among  us.  In  the  morning,  attended  meet- 
ing, and  heard  a  most  excellent  sermon  from  Mr.  K.  In  the 
afternoon,  preached  with  some  degree  of  assistance. 

*'  Aprils.  Had  a  very  uncomfortable  night,  but  was  sweet- 
ly refreshed  and  strengthened  in  secret  prayer  this  morning. 
It  is  long  since  I  have  found  so  m.uch  of  the  divine  presence. 
Was  much  assisted  in  praying  for  a  revival  of  religion, -and 
cannot  but  hope  God  will  yet  bless  us  still  more  abundantly. 

"  April  9.  Was  employed  most  of  the  day  in  visiting.  Was 
troubled  with  some  who  wished  to  join  the  church  without  be- 
ing qualified. 

"  April  14.  Attended  a  conference  for  those  under  con- 
cern, and  was  refreshed  to  see  a  goodly  number,  and  to  trace 
the  operations  of  the  divine  Spirit  upon  their  minds. 

"  April  15.  Was  so  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  vileness,  that 
it  seemed  impossible  for  me  to  come  ;  and  had  such  a  sight  of 
God's  goodness,  that  it  was  impossible  for  me  not  to  come. 

'^  April  19.  O,  how  sweet  and  refreshing  it  is  to  get  above 
the  load  of  sins,  sorrows,  and  corruptions,  which  oppress  us, 
and  taste  a  little  of  communion  with  God ! 

"  April  20.  Was  strengthened  with  all  might  in  the  inner 
man,  and  enabled  to  renew  covenant  with  God  with  great  joy 
and  sincerity. 

"  April  21.  I  have  long  been  in  a  lethargy,  but  I  trust  God 
is  now  bringing  me  out  of  it.  Find  great  and  unusual  sweet- 
ness in  the  Bible,  of  late,  for  which  I  have  long  been  praying ; 
and  likewise  a  deeper  sense  of  the  importance  of  time, — anoth- 
er blessing  for  which  I  have  long  been  seeking.  The  enemy, 
taking  advantage  of  my  great  weakness,  threw  me  into  a  most 
sinful  frame  of  mind ;  but,  on  application  to  him  who  stills  the 
waves,  the  tumult  of  my  mind  was  stilled,  and  there  was  a  great 
calm. 

"  April  22.  Was  favored  with  some  intense  hungerings  and 
thirstings  after  righteousness.  Was  led  to  believe,  from  certain 
circumstances,  that  my  case  was  almost  desperate,  but  felt  most 
sweetly  resigned.  My  only  wish  was  that  God  might  be  glori- 
fied, either  by  my  life  or  death. 

'^  April  23.  Was  assisted  in  prayer  through  the  day.  My 
heart  seemed  ready  to  break  with  its  longings  after  holiness. 
Found  unusual  sweetness  in  reading  the  Scriptures.  Am  much 
11 


122  MEMOIR  OF 

encouraged  by  the  Lord's  unusual  goodness  to  me,  that*  he  is 
about  to  carry  on  his  work  still  more  gloriously  in  this  place. 

"  Ajpril  25.  Was  constrained  to  feel  the  truth  of  our  Lord's 
declaration,  *  Without  me  ye  can  do  nothing.' " 

The  following  paragraphs  from  letters  written  during  this 
spring  will  not  be  uninteresting  : — 

''Portland,  March  28,  1808. 
"My  DEAREST  Mother, 

"  The  Sabbath  after  I  wrote  to  Grata,  I  preached,  as  I  ex- 
pected ;  but  it  proved  too  much  for  me,  and  I  have  not  preach- 
ed since,  nor  do  I  expect  to  till  the  weather  grows  warmer. 
Meanwhile  the  attention  to  religion  seems  to  be  at  a  stand,  and 
whether  it  will  not  wholly  subside,  is  more  than  we  can  tell. 
I  need  not  say  that  this  is  a  trial ;  but,  blessed  be  God,  he  makes 
it  lighter  than  I  could  have  thought  possible.  It  is  true  I  have 
not  much  sensible  or  positive  comfort ;  but  I  am  kept  perfectly 
quiet  and  resigned,  and  can  hardly  find  whether  I  have  any 
w411  or  not.  Should  my  health  not  be  perfectly  re-established 
before  warm  weather,  I  shall  probably  make  a  journey  home. 
The  people  are  abundantly  kind,  and  suffer  me  to  v/ant  for 
nothing  which  they  can  supply.  Mr.  K.  is  as  kind  to  me  as 
the  parish,  and,  though  he  is  almost  overwhelmed  with  labor, 
yet  he  will  not  suffer  me  to  expose  myself  in  the  least. 

"  Now,  after  enumerating  all  these  mercies,  you  will  con- 
clude, of  course,  that  I  am  all  wonder  and  gratitude,  and  that 
the  constant  language  of  my  heart  is,  *  What  shall  I  render 
unto  the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits  V  That  I  ought  to  be  so,  I 
am  very  sensible  ;  but,  alas,  how  far  from  it  I  am  in  reality  !  I 
do  indeed  feel  some  wonder  how  God  can  be  so  good ;  such  a 
kind  of  wonder  as  we  feel  when  thinking  of  his  eternity  or  in- 
finite power  ;  but  as  to  gratitude,  I  hardly  know  by  experience 
what  it  means.  I  once  used  to  think  that  I  did  feel  grateful, 
when  I  had  not  half  the  reason  for  it  which  I  now  have ;  but 
I  have  done  thinking  so.  I  have  done  trying  to  praise  God 
for  his  mercies.  All  we  can  do  falls  so  far  short  of  what  we 
owe,  that  it  seems  little  better  than  mockery  to  thank  him  in 
our  feeble  language,  and  I  can  only  stand  in  stupid  astonish- 
ment to  see  how  good  he  will  be  notwithstanding  all  I  can  do 
to  prevent  it.  O,  how  true  it  is,  that  he  will  have  mercy  on 
whom  he  will  have  mercy !  I  can  hardly  help  praying,  some- 
times, that  he  would  take  away  all  he  has  bestowed,  so  that, 
if  I  must  sin,  I  need  not  sin  against  such  overwhelming  good- 
ness.    But  it  is  as  natural  for  him  to  be  good  and  kind,  as  it  is 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  123 

for  us  to  abuse  his  goodness ;  and  sooner  shall  our  wicked 
hearts  cease  to  sin,  than  he  cease  to  pardon  and  forgive  sin. 


"  The  embargo,  humanly  speaking,  will  be  detrimental  to 
the  morals  of  the  people  here.  They  have  now  nothing  to  do 
but  saunter  about,  and  then,  of  course,  they  get  into  all  man- 
ner of  mischief;  and  I  fear  they  will  lose  all  habits  of  industry 
and  sobriety.  However,  if  I  have  any  health,  we  shall  en- 
deavor to  multiply  meetings,  and  take  up  as  much  of  their  time 
as  possible  in  that  way." 

"  Portland,  April  18,  1808. 

^'  Yes,  my  dearest  mother,  I  did  think  of  my  friends  at 
Rindge,  when  I  apprehended  I  was  about  to  leave  them.  They 
were  almost,  if  not  altogether,  the  only  things  that  I  felt  the 
least  regret  at  the  idea  of  quitting  ;  but  that  regret  was  allevia- 
ted, if  not  wholly  removed,  by  the  consoling  hope,  that  I  should 
soon  meet  them  again,  to  be  separated  no  more.  But,  my 
dear  mother,  why  this  anxiety  ?  If  I  wished  for  life,  it  would 
distress  me  exceedingly  to  see  you  thus  anxious,  because  I 
should  fear  it  would  lead  God  to  remove  from  you  one  for  whom 
you  indulge  so  much  concern.  I  shall  certainly  live  as  long 
as  I  have  any  thing  to  do  for  the  divine  glory ;  for  ^  we  are 
immortal  till  our  work  is  done  ;'  and  you,  surely,  could  not 
wish  me  to  live  after  that  is  accomplished.  Ever  since  I  have 
entertained  a  comfortable  hope  of  my  acceptance  in  the  Belov- 
ed, it  has  been  my  constant  wish,  that  what  I  had  to  do  might 
be  done  speedily ;  and  if  God  should  see  fit  to  grant  this  wish, 
will  it  not  be  better  than  if  I  should  be  a  long  time  in  perform- 
ing the  work  allotted,  and  drag  on  a  wearisome  life  to  no  pur- 
pose ?  It  was  my  great  consolation,  while  taken  off  from  ac- 
tive service,  and  laid  aside  as  a  broken  vessel  and  a  foot  out  of 
joint,  that  we  may  glorify  God  as  much  by  patiently  suffering, 
as  by  actively  doing  his  will ;  and  I  hope  this  consolation  will 
be  yours,  should  he  see  fit  to  appoint  me  a  life  of  weakness, 
pain,  and  suffering,  or  remove  me  first  from  this  state  of  trial. 
It  is  a  striking  proof  of  our  depravity,  that  when  God  favors  us 
with  special  mercies,  he  sees  it  necessary  to  send  special  afflic- 
tions, to  teach  us  our  dependence  and  keep  us  humble.  Could 
I  have  continued  suitably  humble  and  thankful  under  the  mer- 
cies I  have  lately  received  with  respect  to  my  settlement  here, 
and  the  out-pourings  of  the  Spirit,  he  never  would  have  frustra- 
ted, first,  my  temporal  prospects,  and  afterwards,  by  sickness, 
as  it  were  cast  me  out  of  his  vineyard,  as  an  unworthy  and  an 


124  MEMOIR  OF 

unfaithful  laborer.  But  I  not  only  deserved,  but  indispensably 
needed,  all  that  has  befallen  me  ;  and  I  desire  to  bless  him  for 
these  afflictions,  by  which,  when  my  roots  began  to  shoot  into 
and  cleave  to  the  earth,  he  plucked  them  up  before  they  were 
too  deeply  and  firmly  fixed,  and  thus  experimentally  taught  me 
not  to  look  for  or  expect  any  happiness  beyond  that  of  serving 
him  here,  but  to  wait  for  my  reward  in  another  world ;  a  lesson 
of  infinite  importance,  and  which  I  greatly  needed.  But  it  is 
a  lesson  so  hard  for  us,  or  at  least  for  me,  to  learn,  that  I  well 
foresee,  if  I  am  continued  here  any  length  of  time,  it  will  be 
necessary  for  God  to  impress  it  upon  my  mind  again  and  again 
by  repeated  and  multiplied  disappointments.  My  disposition 
is  naturally  so  ardent,  that  I  can  enjoy  nothing  with  modera- 
tion, so  that  I  must  either  be  totally  indiflferent  to  worldly  ob- 
jects, or  else  love  them  to  such  a  degree,  as  to  render  them 
idols  ;  and  then,  of  course,  God  must  and  will  either  imbitter 
or  remove  them.  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  I  must  not 
expect  worldly  happiness  ;  for  perfect  indifference  to  any  object, 
or  too  much  love  for  it,  are  equally  incompatible  with  happi- 
ness ;  and  these  are  the  only  two  states  of  which  I  am  capable. 
For  this  reason  I  fear  ever  to  enter  the  marriage  state,  for  I 
should  most  certainly  love  u  wife  too  much  or  too  little.  I 
know  not,  however,  whether  I  ought  to  regret  this  trait  in 
my  character,  since,  by  cutting  me  off  from  other  sources,  it 
does,  as  it  were,  necessarily  drive  me  to  One  whom  I  cannot 
love  or  serve  too  much,  and  compel  me  to  place  all  my  hopes 
in  a  future  state. 

Since  you  complain  that  I  did  not  tell  you  what  my  sickness 
has  been,  I  will  now  inform  you,  lest  you  should  suppose  it 
worse  than  it  was.  It  was  an  inflammation  of  the  lungs  and  ad- 
joining parts,  attended  for  several  weeks  with  extreme  debility, 
sharp  pain,  restlessness,  loss  of  appetite,  difficulty  of  breathing, 
and  an  inability  to  converse  for  any  time  together.  I  should, 
I  believe,  have  easily  got  over  it,  but  I  continued  my  labors 
much  too  long,  hoping  I  should  be  able  to  drag  along  till  warm 
weather,  which,  I  trusted,  would  restore  me.  But  after  sacra- 
ment, when,  by  reason  of  the  length  of  the  services,  I  was  so 
exhausted  that  I  could  scarcely  sit  in  my  chair,  I  was  obliged 
to  go  out  in  a  cold,  raw  evening,  to  converse  and  pray  with  a 
dying  sailor,  who  had  just  found  out  that  he  had  a  soul  to  save. 
The  next  day  was  a  violent  storm,  in  which  I  imprudently  went 
out  to  visit  some  sick  persons,  and,  the  day  following,  was 
seized  with  a  sharp  pleuritic  pain  in  my  side.  However,  as  it 
was  lecture  night,  I  was  obliged  to  preach,  which  I  got  through 
with  much  pain  and  some  difficultv,  but  was  then  constrained 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  X25 

to  give  up.  Still  I  believe  my  confinement  would  have  been 
much  shorter,  had  not  persons  continued  to  come  and  converse 
with  me,  who  were  under  concern.  I  could  not  find  it  in  my 
heart  to  send  them  away,  and  the  temporary  exhilaration  of 
spirits,  which  seeing  them  gave  me,  prevented  me  fi-om  finding 
out  at  first  how  much  talking  injured  me,  so  that,  for  a  long 
time,  I  lost  much  faster  than  I  gained.  But  the  sun  seems  to 
be  a  physician  superior  to  all  the  doctors,  and  his  warm  beams, 
under  God,  have  in  a  good  measure  restored  me. 

-^  Thus  have  I  spent  my  health — an  odious  trick — 
In  making-  known  how  oft  1  have  been  sick.' 

But  if  your  patience  is  wearied,  you  must  ascribe  it  to  your 
own  request,  without  which  I  should  not  have  said  a  syllable 
on  the  subject." 

The  "  inflammation,"  he  observes  in  another  letter,  "  was 
brought  on,  by  speaking  in  hot  rooms,  and  then  going  out  into 
the  cold  evening  air."  His  illness  proved,  on  the  whole,  a  seri- 
ous one ;  and  he  was  obliged  not  only  to  suspend  preaching, 
but  to  leave  the  scene  of  his  labors,  before  he  could  obtain 
relief  On  the  27th  of  April,  he  set  out  for  his  father's  house, 
to  try  the  effect  of  a  journey  and  a  country  residence  on  his 
health.  *  In  crossing  a  stream,  whose  bridge  had  been  carried 
away,  he  was  thrown  from  his  horse,  and  thoroughly  wet,  so 
that  he  could  proceed  no  farther.'  The  next  day,  '  after  rid- 
ing about  ten  miles,  he  was  seized  with  the  symptoms  of  a  vio- 
lent fever,  and  obliged  to  stop,  and  take  his  bed.'  The  third 
day,  he  pursued  his  journey  moderately,  but  *  in  much  pain  and 
weakness,  fearing  that  his  lungs  had  been  much  injured  by  his 
late  accident.'  Before  night  of  the  fourth  day,  he  *  was  ex- 
tremely exhausted.'  "  Find  that  a  fever  comes  on  at  night, 
and  goes  off*  with  sweats  in  the  morning."  The  next  day  was 
the  Sabbath,  which  he  spent  in  Milford,  ^  weak  in  body  and 
mind.  After  meeting,  which  he  attended  both  parts  of  the 
day,  had  some  conversation  with  a  Universalist,  but  to  little 
purpose.'  "  May  2.  Reached  home,  and  was  most  kindly 
received.  After  the  flow  of  spirits,  occasioned  by  seeing  friends, 
was  over,  found  myself  much  exhausted  with  my  journey." 

For  several  days  afl:er  his  arrival,  he  grew  worse,  till  he  *  lost 
all  strength  and  appetite,'  and  was  taken  with  a  '  hectic  fever,' 
as  was  then  supposed,  "  attended  with  night  sweats  and  some 
cough.  He  gave  up  all  hope  of  recovering,  and  felt  willing  to 
die ;  had  no  murmuring  thought." 
11  * 


126  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Resumes  his  pastoral  labors — Letters — Review  of  the  year, 

Mr.  Pays  on' s  absence  from  his  people  was  prolonged  to  a 
period  of  more  than  two  months.  During  this  time,  he  un- 
derwent much  bodily  suffering ;  but  his  resignation,  and  his 
demeanor  generally,  were  such  as  became  a  man  professing 
godliness.  He  obtained  no  relief,  till  near  the  close  of  this 
period,  when  he  repaired  to  Boston  for  medical  advice,  by 
which  he  was  encouraged  to  hope  that  he  might  again  engage 
in  preaching  the  gospel.  His  church  observed  a  day  of  fast- 
ing and  prayer  on  his  account  during  his  absence.  He  set 
out  on  his  return  to  them,  July  4th,  not  without  *'  gloomy,  mel- 
ancholy fears.  The  work  appeared  great,  the  obstacles  insur- 
mountable, and  his  strength  nothing."  Most  of  the  informa- 
tion, which  could  be  collected  respecting  his  circumstances 
for  several  succeeding  months,  is  contained  in  letters,  that 
were  written  to  his  parents  and  sister. 

''  Portland^  Wednesday  Evening,  July  C,  1808. 
"My  dearest  Parents, 

"  When  you  see  where  and  when  this  letter  is  dated,  you 
will,  I  fear,  be  ready  to  exclaim,  "  Imprudent  boy  !  why  will 
he  not  learn  wisdom  by  experience  ?"  But  when  you  hear 
that  no  ill  consequences  have  resulted  from  my  haste,  you  will, 
I  hope,  pardon  me.  The  truth  is,  when  I  got  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  attraction  of  Rindge,  which  was  not  very  soon, 
Portland  began  to  draw  with  such  irresistible  force,  that  I 
found  there  would  be  no  peace  for  me  till  I  reached  it.  .  So, 
maugre  my  lame  horse,  who  grew  lamer  and  lamer  every  hour, 
I  pressed  on,  and  arrived  here  about  six  this  afternoon.  How  it 
will  be  to-morrow,  I  cannot  tell ;  but,  at  present,  I  am  perfectly 
well,  and  never  was  less  fatigued  by  a  journey  in  my  life.  Mr. 
K.  is  out  of  town,  attending  an  association,  and  my  host,  with 
his  wife,  is  absent  on  a  visit ; ,  so  as  yet  I  have  seen  nobody. 

'■^  Tliursday  Morn. 

"The  crowd  of  anxious  and  interesting  thoughts  which  en-^ 
gaged  my  mind  on  my  return  would  not  suffer  me  to  rest 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  127 

much  last  night,  and  of  course  I  feel  rather  languid  this  morn- 
ing. Still,  however,  I  never  felt  less  inconvenience  from  such 
a  journey.  Mr.  K.  has  just  left  me.  He  gives  a  discouraging 
account  of  the  situation  of  religion.  Several,  whose  convic- 
tions appeared  to  be  of  the  right  kind,  have  apparently  lost 
them,  and  a  general  coldness  seems  to  be  prevailing. 

'^  Thursday  Night. 

*'  Perhaps  you  saw  lately  an  account  of  a  man  who  was  tried 
here  for  murder.  He  was  found  guilty,  and  is  now  in  the 
condemned  hole.  I  went  this  afternoon  to  visit  him,  and  was 
greatly  shocked  and  afflicted  by  a  view  of  the  bolts,  chains, 
and  other  guards  against  escape.  The  entrance  to  his  dun- 
geon was  by  a  small  square  hole,  through  which  I  could  but 
just  crawl  by  stooping  double,  and  it  was  secured  by  a  very 
thick  door  of  solid  iron.  It  was,  however,  sufficiently  light, 
sweet,  and  free  from  dampness.  The  criminal  is  a  young, 
stout,  well-looking  man,  as  far  removed  as  possible  from  the 
idea  one  is  ready  to  form  of  a  murderer.  He  said  he  felt  guil- 
ty and  self-condemned  before  God,  and  felt  the  need  of  a  Sa- 
viour, and  of  a  new  heart,  but  knew  not  how  to  procure  either 
of  them.  But  he  said  this  in  a  cold,  unfeeling  way.  I  shall 
see  him  again  soon,  for  my  own  sake,  as  well  as  his.  It  is 
well  calculated  to  make  one  admire  and  adore  distinguishing 
grace,  which  has  kept  us  from  the  same  crimes,  to  see  a  man, 
in  the  flower  of  life,  shut  up  in  a  small  dungeon,  never  to  go 
out  till  he  goes  to  a  violent  and  ignominious  death. — In  the 
evening,  I  went  to  our  meeting  for  those  under  concern.  This 
is  still  kept  up,  though  very  few  attend,  and  they  seem  little 
■  engaged. 

^'  Friday. 

"  I  have  been  trying  the  effect  of  sea-bathing.  It  was  not 
a  very  favorable  time,  but  I  feel  better  for  it,  and  shall  repeat 
it  daily.  I  have  spent  some  time  in  going  round  among  the 
people.  They  appear  glad  to  see  me  ;  but,  alas  !  I  fear  there 
are  no  hopes  of  any  further  reformation  at  present.  Many, 
whom  I  left  under  deep  concern,  have  lost  all  their  impres- 
sions ;  others  are  cold  ;  Christians  seem  to  be  discouraged. 
Though  I  expected  this,  it  is  almost  too  much  for  me  to  bear. 
I  am  dispirited  and  dejected  ;  my  very  soul  sickens  and 
shrinks  back  from  what  is  before  me.  Weakened  by  sick- 
ness, my  mind  seems  to  have  lost,  at  once,  ail  faith  and  forti- 
tude. I  have  no  assistance  in  writing.  My  ideas  are  all  con- 
fused.    I  seem  to  have  no  power  to  get  hold  of  people's  con- 


128  MEMOIR  OF 

sciences,  but,  as  somebody  expresses  it,  "  my  intellects  have 
got  mittens  on." 

"  Sunday  Evening. 

^*  I  preached  to-day,  and  felt  pretty  much  as  I  expected. 
No  life — people  stupid.  I  shall  get  hardened  to  these  things 
scon  ;  but  at  present  they  are  distressing  indeed.  But  though 
I  am  perplexed,  I  am  not  utterly  in  despair  ;  though  cast  down, 
I  am  not  destroyed.  Somehow  or  other,  I  shall  be  carried 
through.  As  to  my  health,  I  have  little  leisure  to  think  of  it 
amidst  the  more  interesting  things  which  oppress  me.  I  be- 
lieve, however,  I  shall  suffer  but  little  inconvenience  from 
speaking  to-day." 

''  Portland,  July  16,  1808. 
''My  dear  Sister, 

"  I  know  not  why  it  was,  but  I  never  felt  more  pain  at  leav- 
ing home,  since  I  first  began  to  venture  abroad,  than  when  I 
left  Rindge  for  Portland.  I  rode  in  a  very  melancholy  mood 
all  day,  and  seldom  have  I  felt  more  unpleasantly.  This,  you 
will  say,  was  but  an  ungrateful  return  to  my  heavenly  Father, 
for  his  goodness ;  but,  though  I  felt  sensible  that  it  was,  I  could 
not  alter  the  course  of  my  feelings.  My  mind  had  become  so 
tender  by  being  accustomed  to  kindness  and  attention,  that  it 
seemed  to  shrink  from  every  thing  like  coldness  ;  and  it  was 
in  vain  to  expect  that  kindness  from  others,  which  I  experi- 
enced from  parental  and  sisterly  affection  at  home.  The  diffi- 
culties, too,  of  the  ministry,  were  all  before  me.  Like  Peter, 
I  looked  only  at  the  waves  and  billows,  forgetting  the  almigh- 
ty arm  that  was  extended  for  my  support ;  and,  consequently, 
like  him,  I  sunk  in  the  depths  of  despondency.  Nor  is  the 
prospect,  now  I  am  here,  calculated  to  cheer  me.  Iniquities 
abound ;  the  love  of  many  is  waxen  cold  ;  the  enemy  seems 
coming  in  as  a  flood  ;  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  no  longer  lifts  up 
a  standard  against  him  ;  and  I,  what  can  I  do  ?  What  is 
worst  of  all,  is,  that  many  are  ready  to  think,  that,  because  I 
am  returned,  religion  will  revive.  This  sickens  and  discour- 
ages my  very  soul ;  for  I  know,  assuredly,  that,  while  this  is 
the  case,  my  labors  will  be  utterly  unsuccessful.  This  shows, 
too,  that  they  have  not  learnt,  by  my  sickness,  what  God 
meant  they  should  learn,  and  will  bring  a  blast  upon  me  and 
my  exertions.  Still,  however,  blessed  be  God,  he  does  not 
suffer  me  utterly  to  despair.  That  text,  "  Fear  thou  not,  for 
1  am  with  thee  ;  be  not  dismayed,  for  I  am  thy  God  :  I  will 
strengthen  thee ;  yea,  I  will  help  thee  ;  yea,  I  will  uphold  thee 
with  the  right  hand  of  my  righteousness" — never  fails  to  bring 
relief,  even  in  the  darkest  hours.     In  addition  to  this,  I  find 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  129 

some  relief  in  conversing  with  those  who  were  taken  into  the 
church  before  I  left  them,  most  of  whom  seem  to  be  humble, 
growing  Christians  ;  so  that  I  have  still  abundant  reason  to  be 
thankful  ;  but,  alas !  I  cannot.  You,  my  sister,  never  will 
know  what  it  is  to  attempt  to  go  through  the  duties  of  the 
ministry  without  God.  I  stagger  along  under  the  burden, 
like  those  poor  travellers,  who  were  cast  away  in  the  deserts 
of  Arabia,  ready  every  step  to  sink  under  it ;  but  when  it 
seems  as  if  I  could  not  take  another  step,  but  must  lie  down 
and  die,  some  spring  opens  to  my  view,  and  I  get  strength  and 
courage  to  drag  along  a  little  farther. — But  enough  of  this 
melancholy  strain. 

"  My  health  continues  to  imiprove  rapidly,  and  I  am  almost 
perfectly  well.  Mr.  R.  preaches  here  next  Sabbath,  on  an  ex- 
change v/ith  Mr.  K.,  who  goes  to  administer  the  sacrament  at 
Gorham.  He  is  much  liked  ;  they  are,  I  believe,  unanimous, 
or  nearly  so,  in  his  favor,  and  would  settle  him  off  hand,  had 
they  not  written  to  a  Mr.  B.  previous  to  Mr.  R.'s  coming. 
They  think  they  are  bound  in  honor  to  hear  Mr.  B,,  and 
Mr.  R.  feels  a  little  delicate  about  staying,  under  these  cir- 
cumstances. 

"  July2\. 

^'  I  mentioned,  I  believe,  in  my  last  letter,  that  there  was  a 
criminal  here,  under  sentence  of  death  for  murder.  He  was 
executed  to-day,  and  I  have  strong  hopes  he  died  a  sincere 
penitent.     But  the  circumstances  are  too  long  for  a  letter. 

"  My  health  continues  to  improve  with  respect  to  the  diffi- 
culties in  my  breast ;  but  I  am  so  oppressed  with  melancholy 
that  life  is  a  burthen.  I  was  to  have  preached  a  sermon  at 
the  execution  I  have  just  mentioned ;  and,  though  I  did  not 
feel  able  to  write,  I  endeavored  to  force  myself  to  it.  But  a 
melancholy  mind  will  not  be  forced,  and  I  found,  that,  if  I  did 
not  desist,  I  should  be  distracted.  On  the  other  hand,  the  idea 
that  such  an  opportunity  of  doing  good  should  be  lost,  drove 
me  back  to  fresh  endeavors.  The  misery  I  have  endured  for 
three  days  is  inconceivable,  and  has  made  me  quite  sick.  It 
seemed  as  if  I  would  willingly  have  been  hanged  in  his  place, 
rather  than  feel  as  I  did.  I  can  more  easily  believe  that  all 
other  things  work  together  for  good,  than  that  melancholy 
does.  It  appears  to  be  full  of  evil,  and  to  be  productive  of  no 
manner  of  good  either  to  myself  or  others.  But  it  shall  not 
cause  you  any  more  uneasiness  at  present,  for  I  will  bid  you 
adieu,  till  I  am  in  better  humor.  Remember  me  to  all 
friends  ;  ask  my  father  and  mother  to  write  to  and  pray  for  me. 
I  would  give  up  preaching,  if  I  dared  ;  but  "  wo  is  me,  if  I 


130  MEMOIR  OF 

preach  not  the  gospel."     Farewell — and  may  you  never  know, 
by  experience,  the  present  feelings  of 

"  Your  affectionate,  though  unhappy  brother." 

^'Portland,  August  3;  1808. 
"My  dearest  Parents. 

"  I  had  almost  resolved  not  to  write  again  till  I  received 
letters  from  home,  which  I  have  been  looking  for  with  much 
impatience  and  some  hard  thoughts  ;  but,  lest  you  should  im- 
pute my  silence  to  a  wrong  cause,  I  will  put  an  end  to  it  for 
the  present,  and  tell  you  that  I  am  gradually  growing  better, 
and  am,  in  a  manner,  perfectly  well.  I  preach  in  all  weath- 
ers, and  at  all  hours,  without  much,  if  any,  inconvenience  ; 
and  still  gain  strength  notwithstanding  ;  and  the  people  say 
that  I  speak  now  as  loud  and  strong  as  ever,  though  I  did  not 
when  I  first  came  back.  I  have  also  thrown  off  my  melan- 
choly fits,  and  am  as  cheerful  as  ever.  The  state  of  religion, 
however,  is  not  such  as  I  could  wish. 

"  I  preached,  last  Sabbath,  on  man's  depravity,  and  attempt- 
ed to  show,  that,  by  nature,  man  is,  in  stupidity  and  insensi- 
bility, a  block  ;  in  sensuality  and  sottishness,  a  beast ;  and  in 
pride,  malice,  cruelty,  and  treachery,  a  devil.  This  set  the 
whole  town  in  an  uproar,  and  never  was  such  a  racket  made 
about  any  poor  sermon ;  it  is  perfectly  inconceivable  to  any 
who  have  not  seen  it.  But  I  cannot  help  hoping,  that,  amidst 
all  this  smoke,  there  may  be  some  latent  sparks,  which  will 
burst  out  into  a  blaze.  We  had  a  lectme,  last  evening,  in  the 
meeting-house,  which  was  much  more  crowded  than  any  we 
ever  had  before.  However,  our  fears  are,  as  yet,  much  greater 
than  our  hopes. 

"  Mr.  K.  is  like  to  lose  his  youngest  child,  and  his  oldest  is 
quite  sick.  He  is  also  slandered  and  abused  beyond  all  meas- 
ure. Yet  he  bears  all  these  trials  in  a  manner  which  is  sur- 
prising. He  is  less  gay,  but  scarcely  less  cheerful,  than  usual  ; 
nor  would  any  one  suspect,  from  his  appearance,  that  he  was 
suffering  in  body,  friends,  or  estate.  The  embargo  causes  us 
much  uneasiness,  though  not  more  than  was  to  be  expected. 
But  I  tremble  to  think  of  next  winter  ;  for  the  poor  will  suffer 
incalculably,  both  for  want  of  provisions  and  fuel." 

The  sermon  alluded  to  in  this  letter  is  probably  one  which 
he  preached  from  John  viii.  44,  and  which  is  still  remem- 
bered  with  lively  impression  by  some  of  the  hearers,  whose  ac- 
count of  its  effects  amply  sustains  his  own  description.  In  the 
course  of  the  following  week,  there  might  be  heard  one  man 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  131 

hailing  another  in  the  street  as  "  brother  devil !"  This,  com- 
ing to  Mr.  Pay  son's  ears,  so  far  from  being  regarded  as  a  cir- 
cumstance of  discouragement,  inspired  him  with  the  hope  that 
good  would  ultimately  result  from  it — a  hope  which  the  event 
justified;  for  some  of  these  "brave  spirits"  were  afterwards 
humbled  at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  His  description  of  the  '^  nat- 
ural man"  is  given  in  terms  which  he  repeatedly  applies  to 
himself  in  his  private  journal ;  and  their  application  to  the 
species  was  made  in  the  fulness  of  an  honest  heart.  They 
show,  too,  that  he  was  not  indebted  to  flattery  for  any  part  of 
his  popularity.  Still,  such  a  representation  of  the  subject  is 
of  questionable  propriety,  and,  from  another  preacher,  might 
have  been  productive  of  none  but  evil  consequences.  And  yet 
some  young,  rash,  ignorant  ministers  will  be  more  emulous  to 
copy  this,  than  any  other  trait  in  his  preaching.  After  letting 
off  a  volley  of  harsh,  impertinent,  bitter,  and  extravagant  epi- 
thets, with  a  heart  as  callous  as  that  which  they  describe,  they 
will  flatter  themselves  that  they  have  been  signally  faithful,  and 
are  "just  like  Dr.  Payson  !"  But  they  mistake  his  character, 
as  well  as  their  own.  His  severest  expressions  were  uttered 
with  the  moving  tenderness  of  a  heart  that  yearned  over  the 
guilt  and  impending  misery  of  his  fellow-men.  The  wounds 
he  inflicted  were  "the  wounds  of  a  friend."  Those  on  whom 
his  strokes  fell  with  deadliest  effect,  could  not  but  feel  that  be- 
nevolence aimed  the  blow. 

"  August  10. 
"  I  have  just  received  your  letter,  my  dear  mother,  and  will 
now  put  an  end  to  mine,  which  a  press  of  duty  had  made  me 
lay  by.  Mr.  K.'s  child  is  dead,  and  that  has  thrown  a  great 
deal  of  business  upon  my  hands.  He  is  going  a  journey  soon, 
and  I  must  finish  visiting  the  people  before  he  goes,  as  I  shall 
have  no  time  afterwards.  Your  letter  afforded  me  some  com- 
fort at  a  time  when  I  needed  it.  We  have  lost  all  hopes  of 
any  more  attention,  at  present,  and  I  am  in  some  measure 
reconciled  to  it ;  for  if  a  revival  should  take  place  immediately 
after  my  return,  people  would  not  give  God  the  glory.  The 
opposition  grows  more  and  more  bitter ;  every  mouth  seems  to 
be  opened  to  revile,  and  Christians,  instead  of  supporting  me, 
seem  to  think  that  it  will  not  do  to  tell  the  whole  truth,  lest 
the  world  Siiould  be  too  much  offended.  I  was  prone  to  trust 
to  Christians,  and  think  that,  though  all  should  be  offended, 
yet  they  would  not ;  but  I  find  it  will  not  do  to  put  trust  in 
man,  however  good  he  may  be.  Even  Christians  had  much 
rather  hear  of  their  privileges,  their  good  estate,  and  the  hap- 
piness prepared  for  them,  than  be  told  plainly  how  defective 


132  MEMOIR  OF 

they  are,  and  urged  to  greater  diligence,  zeal,  and  fidelity.  I 
think,  sometimes,  that  all  the  service  I  shall  do  the  church 
will  be  to  change  them  from  legal  to  evangelical  hypocrites ; 
for  they  have  now^  got  their  cue,  and,  instead  of  saying  that 
they  do  all  they  can,  and  hope  Christ  will  do  the  rest,  they  are 
all  complaining,  like  Mrs.  *********-^  what  dreadful  vile  crea- 
tures they  are,  and  smile  all  the  time. 

"  However,  there  are  some  who  make  these  complaints  in  a 
different  manner,  and  who  appear  really  to  groan  under  a  body 
of  sin  and  death.  One  person,  who  was  esteemed  by  Mr.  K. 
and  the  whole  church,  and  by  myself  too,  not  only  a  Christian, 
but  a  very  eminent  one,  of  whose  religion  I  had  not  the  least 
doubt,  and  who  appeared  to  be  very  humble  and  broken-heart- 
ed, and,  in  short,  to  be  every  thing  we  could  wish,  has  discov- 
ered that  she  was  building  on  the  sand.  She  had  been  a  pro- 
fessor some  time,  but  had  never  heard  of  or  suspected  the 
difference  between  holy  and  selfish  love,  and  is  now  fully 
convinced  that  all  her  love  was  of  the  latter  kind.  As  she 
possesses  good  sense  and  information,  the  accounts  she  gives 
of  her  experiences,  while  destitute  of  religion,  are  very  profit- 
able, and  open  new  ways  in  which  persons  may  be  deceived, 
of  which  I  had  scarcely  any  conception. 

"  I  did  not  intend  to  say  a  word  of  myself,  but  I  cannot 
write  or  think  on  any  thing  else.  I  am  crushed  down,  not 
only  into  the  dust,  but  below  the  dust,  so  that  it  seems,  at 
times,  as  if  I  must  perish.  I  am  obliged  to  go  into  the  pulpit, 
to  pray  and  preach,  with  my  mind  full  of  horrid  thoughts,  so 
that  I  totally  forget  what  I  was  going  to  say,  and  am  forced  to 
stop  short.  From  this  one  sample,  of  which,  however,  you 
cannot  know  the  bitterness,  unless  you  had  been  forced  to 
preach  in  that  situation,  you  may  judge  of  the  rest.  Yet  I 
know  it  is  all  for  the  best.  It  teaches  me,  I  hope,  to  give  the 
glory  more  to  God,  when  I  feel  better.  Now  it  seems  as 
strange,  if  a  good  thought  or  desire  rises  for  a  moment  in  my 
mind,  as  it  would  be  to  find  a  diamond  upon  a  dunghill,  or  to 
see  a  gleam  of  sunshine  in  a  dark  night.  I  know  it  cannot 
be  the  product  of  my  heart,  but  must  come  from  some  other 
source  ;  and  to  that  source  I  wish  to  refer  it." 

"  Portland,  September  8,  1808. 
''  My  dearest  Parents, 

"  Last  Sabbath,  I  preached  all  day,  administered  the  sacra- 
ment, catechised  the  children,  and  spent  the  evening  in  con- 
versation ;  and  yet,  instead  of  being  laid  up,  as  I  feared,  I  am 
full  as  well,  if  not  better,  than  before.     Things  still  remain 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  133 

pretty  much  as  they  were.  A  great  many  seem  to  be  some- 
what alarmed,  but  I  see  none  of  those  deep  convictions  of  sin 
which  I  used  to  see  ;  it  is  only  the  mere  workings  of  natural 
fear.  Two  persons,  however,  who  had  entirely  lost  their  con- 
victions, have  had  them  return  more  strongly  than  ever  ;  so 
that  we  are  not  entirely  deserted.  People  seem  to  be  a  little 
better  reconciled  to  the  truth,  and  several,  who  threatened  to 
leave  the  parish,  still  remain  quiet ;  but  whether  their  quiet- 
ness proceeds  from  mere  stupidity,  or  from  a  conviction  of  the 
truth,  I  know  not.  The  church  seem  to  feel  the  general  dead- 
ness  ;  and,  as  to  myself,  I  seem  palsied  to  all  good,  though 
pride,  or  selfishness,  or  habit,  still  keeps  me  in  motion.  I  have 
had  far  more  distressing  experience  of  the  dreadful  depravity 
of  my  nature,  since  I  left  home,  than  ever  before.  O  the 
heights  and  depths,  the  lengths  and  breadths,  of  wickedness, 
in  the  depraved  heart !  If  complaining  to  man  was  of  service, 
what  a  torrent  of  complaint  could  I  pour  out !  But  it  will  not 
avail. 

"  Sept.  14. 

"  Mr.  C,  a  young  gentleman  of  independent  fortune,  is  now 
preaching  in  the  old  parish.  He  has  been  studying  divinity 
in  Scotland,  and  preaches  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel  in  a 
clear,  distinguishing  manner.  As  his  sentiments  were  known 
before  he  came,  every  thing  was  said,  to  take  off  the  effect  of 
his  preaching,  which  could  be  said.  They  cannot,  however, 
accuse  him  of  interested  motives  in  preaching  ;  and,  as  he  is 
quite  a  gentleman  in  his  manners,  I  hope  he  will  lessen  the 
prejudices  of  some  of  his  fashionable  hearers  against  the  gospel. 

"  We  have  had  three  additions  to  the  church,  since  my  re- 
turn, of  persons  who  gave  very  satisfactory  evidence  ;  and  there 
are  a  few  other  gleanings  of  our  late  harvest,  that  are  not  yet 
gathered  in  ;  but,  otherwise,  we  are  in  a  most  stupid  state. 
If  I  now  and  then  feel  a  spark  of  life,  the  moment  I  go  abroad 
among  my  people,  it  goes  out,  and  I  always  come  home  quite 
discouraged.  I  cannot  feel  thankful  as  I  ought  for  health 
restored. 

''  Oct.  10. 
"  Mr.  K.  comes  back  this  week,  and  my  hard  duty  is  over 
without  any  ill  consequences.     I  have  had  some  relief,  of  late, 
from  Mr.  C.'s  being  here,  at  the  old  parish,  and  preaching  such 
doctrine  as  I  do." 

In  the  following  letter  to  his  mother  is  a  most  vivid  sketch 
of  the  workings  of  his  mind  in  his  hours  of  discouragement, 
12 


134  MEMOIR  OF 

as  well  as  of  those  considerations  by  which  he  was  assisted  to 
rise  above  it.     It  will  be  read  with  thrilling  interest : — 

*' Portland,  Oc^  25,  1808. 
"My  dearest  Mother, 

"  I  have  just  received  your  letter  of  the  19th,  and,  like  all 
your  letters,  it  came  just  in  the  right  time,  when  I  needed  it 
most, — when  I  was  sinking,  fainting  under  discouragements 
and  difficulties.  I  feel  the  force  of  all  you  say.  I  know  I 
have  every  reason  in  the  world  to  feel  grateful ;  but  this  knowl- 
edge only  renders  me  more  unhappy,  that  I  cannot  feel  it. 
Gratitude  is  a  plant  that  my  heart  will  never  produce,  only 
when  Heaven  is  pleased  to  place  it  there  ;  and  whether  I  shall 
ever  exercise  one  emotion  of  it  again,  seems  doubtful. 

"  God  is  showing  me  what  is  in  my  heart  in  a  ten-fold  clearer 
light  than  ever  before ;  and  though  I  know  he  does  it  to  hum- 
ble and  prove  me,  that  he  may  do  me  good  in  the  latter  end ; 
yet,  while  he  permits,  my  mind  will  be  like  the  troubled  sea, 
which  cannot  rest,  whose  waters  cast  up  mire  and  dirt ;  and 
I  can  no  more  still  it  than  I  can  still  the  elements.  I  know 
how  I  ought  to  feel,  and  I  know  how  wrong  it  is  to  feel  as  I 
do  ;  but  that  does  not  help  me  to  feel  otherwise.  I  know  that 
I  am  every  thing  that  is  bad  summed  up  in  one,  and  that  I 
deserve,  ten  thousand  times  over,  the  hottest  place  in  hell ;  but 
till  God  shall  be  pleased  to  melt  my  heart  by  the  returning 
beams  of  his  love,  this  sight  of  sin  only  hardens  my  heart,  and 
sinks  it  down  in  sullen  indolence  and  despair.  I  well  remem- 
ber those  delightful  seasons  you  mention  ;  but  I  remember 
them  as  Satan  does  the  happiness  of  heaven,  which  he  has 
lost.  I  cannot  help  being  sorry  that  I  ever  recovered,  *  *  * 
*  *  *  though  I  see,  as  clear  as  the  light  of  day,  how  devilish, 
and  cowardly,  and  base,  and  ungrateful,  such  a  temper  is.  I 
loathe  and  detest  myself  for  having  such  a  temper,  and  know 
that  my  inability  to  restrain  it,  instead  of  being  any  excuse, 
only  renders  me  utterly  inexcusable.  I  know,  too,  that  all  this 
is  necessary  for  my  good.  I  know  Christ  is  near  me,  though 
I  cannot  perceive  him  ;  and  that,  in  his  own  time,  which  will 
be  the  best  time,  he  will  pluck  me  out  of  this  terrible  deep 
pit,  and  set  my  feet  on  a  rock.  But  this  knowledge  does  not 
prevent  my  being  tossed  hither  and  thither,  before  the  blast  of 
temptation,  like  a  leaf  before  a  whirlwind.  Meanwhile,  I  have 
nowhere  to  look  for  comfort,  either  in  heaven  or  earth.  My 
prayer  seems  to  be  shut  out,  though  in  reality  I  know  it  is  not. 
My  people  are  raving  about  my  hard  doctrine  ;  my  friends 
seem  to  stand  aloof,  my  health  begins  to  decline,  religion  de- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  135 

caying,  and  all  hell  broke  loose  within  me.  While  this 
is  the  case,  what  can  reasoning  or  arguments  avail  ?  Who 
but  he  who  caused  light  to  shine  out  of  darkness,  can 
bring  light  and  order  out  of  the  darkness  and  chaos  of  my 
soul? 

"  Your  hopes  with  respect  to  Mr.  C.  are  frustrated.  Not- 
withstanding he  combined  almost  every  advantage,  such  as 
being  independent  in  property,  eloquent,  polished  in  his  man- 
ners, &/C.  &c.,  he  had  only  thirty /br,  to  ninety  against  him. 
Mr.  R.  has  a  unanimous  call  at  Gorham  ;  but  he  feels  afraid 
to  settle,  because  he  is  not  qualified.  I  tell  him  to  settle  by 
all  means  ;  for,  if  he  waits  a  little  longer,  he  never  will  feel 
qualified  to  settle  at  all.  If  I  had  waited  till  this  time,  I  sure- 
ly should  never  have  been  a  minister.  I  should  give  up  now, 
but,  whenever  I  think  of  it,  something  seems  to  say,  *  What 
are  you  going  to  give  up  for  1  Supposing  you  are  a  poor,  mis- 
erable, blind,  weak,  stupid  worm  of  the  dust,  with  mountains 
of  opposition  before  you, — is  that  any  reason  for  discourager 
ment  1  Have  you  yet  to  learn,  that  God  has  chosen  the  weak 
things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  mighty,  and  that,  if  you 
had  the  talents  of  an  angel,  you  could  do  nothing  without  his 
assistance  1  Has  he  not  already  helped  you  beyond  all  you 
dared  ask  or  think  ;  and  has  not  he  promised  to  help  you  in 
future  1  What  then  would  you,  poor,  weak,  stupid,  cowardly 
fool,  have  more  ? — what  do  you  keep  murmuring  about  all  the 
time  ?  Why  don't  you  glory  in  your  infirmities,  that  the  power 
of  Christ  may  rest  upon  you?'  To  all  this  1  can  answer^  noth- 
ing, and  so  I  keep  dragging  on,  because  I  dare  not  leave  off 
without  a  discharge. 

"  We  have  still  a  few  inquirers,  and  one  or  two  have  joined 
the  church  every  communion,  which  is  once  a  month.  The 
church  continue  to  attend  private  meetings  diligently.  We 
know  of  four  old  professors,  who  have  been  building  on  sand, 
but  now,  I  hope,  are  on  Christ ;  but  we  have  still  a  wretched 
set.  One  was  yesterday  found  to  be  intemperate,  who  has 
been  a  professor  several  years. 

"  I  am  not  quite  so  well  as  I  have  been,  but  am  as  well  as 
when  I  left  home,  and  might  have  been  better,  if  I  could  learn 
any  prudence." 

His  filial  love  suffered  no  abatement  in  consequence  of  his 
growing  years  and  increased  cares.  How  eager  he  was  to 
relieve  a  father's  burdened  spirit,  will  be  seen  in  the  following 
letter  of  condolence  : — 


136  MEMOIR  OF 

^'  Portland,  November  13,  1808. 
"My  dearest  Father, 

"  Yours  of  the  1st  inst.  I  received  yesterday,  and  its  con- 
tents gave  me  no  little  uneasiness.  I  am  grieved,  that  such 
depravity  should  be  displayed  by  one  so  young,*  and  that  such 
an  addition  should  be  made  to  your  cares  and  sorrows.  How 
I  long,  how  I  should  rejoice,  to  say  something,  that  would 
comfort  you,  my  dear  father  ;  something  that  would  tend  to 
lighten  the  burden  of  life  which  you  mention  !  but,  alas !  I  am 
a  miserable  comforter,  and  cannot  even  comfort  myself  I 
have  been  preaching,  to-day,  on  Isaiah  xl.  1,  Comfort  ye, 
&LC. ;  on  account  of  som.e  who  are  afflicted  with  various  trou- 
bles ;  and  in  trying  to  comfort  them,  I  obtained  the  first  drop 
of  consolation,  which  I  have  tasted  for  many  days  ;  and  I 
would  gladly  share  it  with  you,  or  rather  give  you  all,  if  in  my 
power.  But  I  dare  not  presume  to  point  out  to  you  the  springs 
of  consolation  which  the  gospel  affords,  and  at  which  you 
have  often  drank  and  been  refreshed.  But  if  I  were  writing 
to  another,  I  would  ask.  What  burden  can  be  heavy,  to  one 
who  has  Omnipotence  for  his  support  ?  Is  there  not  balm  in 
Gilead  ?  Is  there  no  physician  there  ?  Is  there  any  anguish 
which  this  balm  cannot  alleviate  ?  any  wound  which  this  Phy- 
sician cannot  heal  ?  I  would  ask.  Can  he  need  comfort,  who 
knows  that  he  belongs  to  the  friends  and  people  of  God  ?  that 
his  sins  are  forgiven,  and  his  name  written  in  the  Lamb's 
book  of  life  ?  Is  it  not  strong  consolation,  consolation  suffi- 
cient to  support  the  soid  under  the  severest  trials,  to  know 
that  you  are  washed,  justified,  and  sanctified,  by  the  blood  of 
the  Lord  Jesus,  and  the  Spirit  of  your  God?  that  there  is  laid  up 
for  you,  in  heaven,  a  crown  of  glory,  an  inheritance  incorrup- 
tible, undefiled,  and  which  fadeth  not  away  ?  and  that  neither 
death,  nor  life,  nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor  things  pres- 
ent, nor  things  to  come,  shall  ever  be  able  to  separate  you 
from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  your  Lord  ? 
Is  it  not  comfort  sufficient  to  satisfy  even  the  boundless  de- 
sires of  an  immortal  mind,  to  know  that  you  are  a  temple  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  a  m.ember  of  Christ,  and  a  child  of  God  ? 
that  the  blessed  angels  are  your  guards  and  attendants  ?  that 
the  Holy  Spirit  is  your  Assistant  and  Sanctifier  ?  the  Son  of 
God  your  Friend,  your  Shepherd,  your  Intercessor,  and  Head? 
and  God  himself  your  Father,  your  God,  and  your  exceeding 
great  reward  ?  Is  it  not  enough  to  know,  that  your  salvation 
standeth  sure,  and  that  heaven  is  as  certainly  yours,  as  if  you 

*  He  refers  to  a  young  female  domestic,  who  set  fire  to  his  father's  house. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  137 

already  stood  on  Mount  Zion,  singing  the  praises  of  redeem- 
ing love  ?  Is  it  not  enough  to  know  that  all  things  shall 
work  together  for  your  good,  through  time  and  eternity  ?  and 
that  he  who  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for 
us  all,  will  with  him  also  freely  give  us  all  things  ?  In  some 
such  manner  as  this  I  would  write  to  an  equal,  to  one  whose 
progress  in  religion  was  small,  whose  trials  were  light,  and 
whose  views  of  divine  things  were  partial  and  confined,  like 
my  own.  But  to  you,  my  dear  father,  I  dare  not  write  thus, 
for  you  know  these  things  already  ;  and  you  have  doubtless 
spiritual  trials,  of  which  1  can  as  yet  form  no  conception,  and 
under  which,  consequently,  I  know  not  how  even  to  try  to 
comfort  you.  But  is  it  not  some  satisfp.ction  to  reflect,  that  to 
you  and  my  mother  I  shall  be  indebted,  under  God,  for  ever- 
lasting felicity  ;  and  that,  if  I  am  made  the  instrument  of  do- 
ing any  good  in  the  world,  it  will  be  owijag  to  your  prayers,  pre- 
cepts, and  example  ?  My  dear  father,  how  many  have  all 
your  trials,  and  none  of  your  comforts — no  God  to  go  to,  no  re- 
ligion to  support  them,  no  hopes  of  heaven,  no  divine  consola- 
tions, to  soothe  their  sorrows  in  this  valley  of  tears  !  Do, 
then,  let  us  persuade  you  to  be  happy ;  for  you  have  been  the 
means  of  great  good  and  happiness  to  us. 

"  I  dare  not  read  over  what  I  have  written,  and  I  am  almost 
afraid  to  send  it ;  for  I  write  in  a  hurry,  and  much  exhausted 
both  in  body  and  mind,  by  the  labors  of  the  day  ;  but  I  write 
with  a  most  ardent  desire  to  give  you  a  moment's  pleasure  ; 
and  though  I  fear  I  shall  not  succeed,  yet  I  hope  the  inten- 
tion will  be  accepted.  I  am  unfit  to  write,  for  it  is  very  late, 
and  I  am  very  sleepy,  very  much  tired,  and  my  head  aches ; 
but  if  I  did  not  write  now,  I  must  wait  some  time,  and  I  knew 
not  how  to  wait  a  single  day,  without  expressing  my  sorrow 
for  your  new  troubles,  though  unable  to  remove  them. 

"  My  health  remains  nearly  the  same  as  when  I  wrote  last. 
I  am  not  better,  and  I  know  not  that  I  am  worse.  I  shall  not 
fail  to  let  you  know  the  worst,  as  I  promised  to  do.  You 
need,  therefore,  be  under  no  apprehensions  that  I  am  worse 
than  I  represent.  The  state  of  religion  continues  much  the 
same,  only  the  line  seems  to  be  drawing  between  the  friends 
and  the  enemies  of  Christ.  The  word  is  to  some  a  savor  of 
life  unto  life;  but  to  many,  a  savor  of  death  unto  death. 
Many  among  us  seem  to  be  literally  mad  upon  their  idols ; 
but  the  church  seem  to  be  growing  in  grace.  There  is  a 
society  among  them,  who  have  two  prayer-meetings  week- 
ly, besides  a  monthly  fast.  The  young  converts,  as  yet, 
promise  fair." 

12* 


138  MEMOIR  OF 

Mr.  Payson's  pastoral  labors,  during  the  first  year,  though 
much  interrupted  by  sickness,  were  nevertheless  successful,  and, 
by  the  blessing  of  God,  issued  in  an  accession  of  twenty-nine 
members  to  the  church.  His  sermon,  at  the  first  anniversary 
of  his  ordination,  was  founded  on  2  Cor.  ii.  15,  16,  in  which 
he  illustrated,  in  a  very  lucid  and  solemn  manner,  the  proposi- 
tions, that,  "  to  those  who  are  saved,  the  preaching  of  the  gos- 
pel is  a  savor  of  life  unto  life  ;"  that,  *'  to  those  who  perish,  it 
is  a  savor  of  death  unto  death ;"  and  that  "  the  labors  of  those 
who  preach  it,  are  in  both  cases  acceptable  to  God."  In  the 
application  of  his  discourse,  after  recognising,  with  much  feel- 
ing, his  ordination  vows,  and  the  changes  by  death  and  other- 
wise, which  had  occurred  in  the  society,  he  acknowledges 
that  their  conduct  to  him  *'  has  been  such  as  not  only  to  afford 
no  cause  of  complaint,  but  to  merit  and  excite  his  warmest 
gratitude,  and  most  earnest  prayers  and  endeavors  to  promote 
their  temporal  and  spiritual  welfare.  The  patience,  with 
which  you  have  borne  with  the  infirmities  occasioned  by  a 
long  and  debilitating  illness;  the  diligence  and  attention  with 
which  you  have  listened  to  the  ministrations  of  the  word,  both 
in  season  and  out  of  season  ;  and  the  many  proofs  of  kindness 
and  regard,  equally  unexpected  and  undeserved,  which  you 
have  displayed, — are  too  deeply  impressed  on  the  heart  and 
memory  of  the  speaker  ever  to  be  forgotten,  and  will  render 
it  no  less  his  pleasure  and  delight,  than  it  is  his  duty,  wholly 
to  spend  and  be  spent  in  your  service.  But  merely  to  hear 
the  messages  of  God  attentively,  and  to  treat  with  kindness 
those  who  bring  them,  is  not  sufficient ;  for  not  the  hearers, 
but  the  doers  of  the  word  shall  be  justified. 

*'  Permit  m.e,  therefore,  to  ask,  whether  you,  my  friends, 
have  done  more  than  this  ?  According  to  the  measure  of 
ability  given  me,  I  have  endeavored  plainly  to  declare  unto  you 
the  whole  counsel  of  God ;  and  though,  through  an  anxious 
desire  to  strip  off  all  disguise  from  the  truth,  and  prevent,  so 
far  as  possible,  all  error  and  mistake,  the  speaker  may  have 
expressed  himself  unguardedly,  and  only  irritated  where  he 
meant  to  convince,  yet  still  it  is  the  truth  which  he  has  pro- 
claimed. And  we  would  ask  you,  most  seriously  and  affec- 
tionately, whether  it  has  been  to  your  souls  a  savor  of  life  unto 
life,  or  of  death  unto  death  ? 

*  *  *  * 

"  Light  as  it  may  appear  to  us,  it  is,  my  friends,  a  dreadful 
thing  to  trifle  with  the  law  and  gospel  of  Jehovah.  Nor  can 
a  greater  curse  befall  a  people,  than  to  hear  his  word,  if  they 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  139 

neglect  to  perform  it.  A  flood  of  waters,  or  a  deluge  of  fire, 
is  comparatively  a  blessing.  There  are,  doubtless,  many  such 
triflers  here,  who  fully  resolve,  at  some  future  time,  to  repent 
and  believe  the  gospel.  But  on  what  are  your  hopes  founded  ? 
Salvation  is  now  more  distant  from  you  than  ever.  For  years 
you  have  been  hardening  in  sin.  Every  sermon  you  have 
heard  has  insensibly  rendered  you  worse.  You  have  already 
heard  every  motive,  argument  and  consideration,  which  the 
Scriptures  afford,  and  heard  them  in  vain.  The  whole  store- 
house of  spiritual  medicines  has  been  thrown  open  for  your  re- 
lief;  but  your  moral  diseases,  instead  of  being  healed,  have  be- 
come more  inveterate.  We  can  only  present  to  you  again  the 
same  remedies,  which  have  already  proved  unsuccessful;  for 
the  art  of  man  and  the  word  of  God  afford  no  other.  Humanly 
speaking,  then,  it  is  evident  you  must  perish. — But  though 
your  recovery  is  thus  impossible  with  man,  it  is  not  with  God. 
Blessed  be  his  name  !  there  is  yet  balm  in  Gilead,  and  a  Phy- 
sician there,  who  can  heal  when  mortal  physicians  fail.  But, 
alas  !  you  will  not  apply  to  him.  You  will  not  believe  you 
are  sick  ;  you  will  not  be  persuaded  to  seek  eternal  life.  You 
still  go  on  to  neglect  the  gospel  ;  and  perhaps  this  very  warn- 
ing will  prove  to  some  of  you  a  savor  of  death  unto  death. — 
My  friends,  how  trying  is  the  situation  of  the  ministers  of 
Christ,  if  they  have  any  love  for  their  people,  or  regard  for 
their,  souls.  They  are  like  a  man  placed  on  the  brink  of  a 
precipice,  to  warn  travellers,  that,  if  they  proceed,  they  will  in- 
evitably be  dashed  in  pieces.  The  travellers  arrive,  listen  to 
the  warning,  and  then,  with  a  few  exceptions,  hold  on  their 
course,  and  perish  before  the  eyes  of  him  who  labored  in  vain 
to  save  them. 

"  Such,  but  infinitely  more  distressing,  is  our  situation. 
We  stand  at  the  entrance  of  the  way  of  life,  to  warn  our  peo- 
ple, that  they  are  in  the  broad  road  to  destruction,  and  to  urge 
and  entreat  them  to  turn  aside  and  be  happy.  Many  of  them 
hear  our  entreaties  with  some  degree  of  attention  and  regard. 
They  engage  our  affections  by  kind  offices ;  we  labor  with 
them,  tell  them  they  are  deeply  rooted  in  our  hearts  and  affec- 
tions ;  and  then,  in  defiance  of  all  our  prayers  and  tears,  they 
hurry  away,  and  perish  before  our  eyes,  in  a  manner  too 
dreadful  to  be  conceived.  If  this  be  not  agony,  disappoint- 
ment, and  distress,  what  is  ?  The  agonies  of  a  patriot,  trem- 
bling for  his  country — of  a  wife,  watching  an  expiring  husband 
— or  of  a  mother,  trembling  for  a  diseased  child — are  nothing 
to  those  which  he  must  feel,  who  knows  the  worth  of  an  im- 


140  MEMOIR  OF 

mortal  soul,  who  considers  what  it  is  to  be  lost,  and  yet  sees 
his  people  perishing  before  him. 

"  O,  my  friends,  my  dear  friends  !  how  do  our  spirits  droop, 
and  our  hearts  sicken  with  anguish  and  despair,  when  we  con- 
sider, that,  notwithstanding  all  we  can  do,  many  here  present 
will  finally  find  the  gospel  a  savor  of  death  unto  death  !  and 
all  our  exertions  will  answer  no  other  purpose  than  to  increase, 
beyond  conception,  their  misery  and  guilt !  O,  ye  precious, 
immortal  souls  !  ye  spirits,  that  will  never  die !  ye  heirs  of 
eternity,  hear  ! — and  obey,  ere  it  is  too  late,  the  joyful  sound 
of  the  gospel.  O,  if  there  be  any  avenue  to  conviction,  tell  us 
where  it  lies.  Tell,  O  tell  us,  how  we  may  draw,  or  drive,  or 
lead  you  to  Christ.  Tell  us  how  we  may  bribe  you  not  to  be 
miserable  forever.  Almost  are  we  ready  to  say  with  the  apos- 
tle— we  could  even  wish  ourselves  accursed  from  Christ  for 
our  people,  our  friends  according  to  the  flesh." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  141 


CHAPTER  X. 

His  dependence  on  God;  its  influence  on  himself  and  church 
— His  uniform  purpose  to  know  nothing  save  Jesus  Christ 
and  Him  crucified — Illustration — Letters — Resolutions — 
Increased  success. 

The  preparation  of  his  first  anniversary  sermon,  from  which 
some  extracts  have  been  taken,  was  attended  by  long-contin- 
ued and  intense  private  devotion  ;  and  in  preaching  it,  he  "  had 
much  assistance,  and  m.any  were  in  tears."  He  looked  for- 
ward through  the  year  to  come  with  the  same  prayerful  so- 
lemnity, which  distinguished  his  retrospect  of  the  past.  In 
view  of  his  amazing  responsibilities,  he  went  for  aid  "  to  the 
throne  of  grace ;  and,"  he  exclaims — "  O,  the  unspeakable 
goodness  and  condescension  of  God  ! — did  not  go  in  vain." 
His  complaints  still  hung,  like  a  clog,  to  him,  so  that  his  body 
could  but  partially  serve  the  ever-active  spirit  by  which  it  was 
animated.  This  calamity  was  at  no  time  more  trying  than 
when .  it  prevented  him  from  preaching  his  usual  Thurs- 
day evening  lecture.  On  one  such  evening  he  makes  this 
record : — 

"  Dec.  30.  Had  a  sweet  season  in  prayer  this  morning  ; 
and  felt  fervent  love  to  my  Saviour,  and  desires  that  he  might 
be  glorified.  Was  much  assisted  in  writing  upon  a  subject, 
which  led  me  to  insist  upon  the  constraining  power  of  Christ's 
love  ;  and,  blessed  be  God,  I  was  enabled  in  some  measure 
to  feel  my  subject.  Was  prevented  from  preaching  by  the 
v/eather,  and  the  state  of  my  health ;  which  was  a  great  dis- 
appointment." 

It  was  Mr.  Payson's  uniform,  if  not  invariable  practice,  to 
use  a  written  serm.on  on  one  part  of  every  Sabbath ;  and  yet 
it  is  worthy  of  particular  observation,  how  much  he  sought 
and  valued  divine  assistance  in  preaching.  His  dependence 
on  the  Spirit's  aid  was,  apparently,  as  real  and  exclusive  as  if 
he  had  made  no  previous  preparation.  He  was  greatly  dis- 
tressed, when  engaged  in  pronouncing  a  discourse,  unaccom- 
panied with  a  consciousness  of  such  assistance ;  and  propor- 


142  MEMOIR  OF 

tionately  grateful  when  favored  with  it.     A  single  extract  will 
exhibit  his  feelings  on  this  subject : — 

-"  Sabbath.     Preached  without  the  least  apparent  assist- 


ance. Was  so  distressed,  that  I  left  the  sermon  unfinished, 
and  felt  as  if  the  people  would  leave  the  house.  Went  home, 
feeling  ashamed  to  look  any  body  in  the  face.  Was  ready  to 
give  up  in  despair  ;  .  .  .  .  and  had  scarcely  any  hope  that  I 
should  ever  again  behold  the  light  of  God's  countenance.  Yet 
such  is  the  inconceivable  goodness  of  God  to  his  perverse  and 
froward  children,  that  he  was  pleased,  even  then,  to  melt  my 
stubborn  heart  with  the  displays  of  his  love.  Felt  so  over- 
whelmed with  a  sense  of  his  goodness  and  my  own  ingratitude, 
that  I  could  not  look  up,  or  hardly  venture  to  throw  myself  at 
his  feet.  My  heart  was  broken  within  me,  to  think  that  I 
should  still  ungratefully  requite  such  infinite  goodness." 

If  this  reliance  on  God  for  help  in  preaching  was  not  pecu- 
liar to  him,  but  common — as  it  probably  is  in  a  degree — to 
every  evangelical  minister,  the  knowledge  of  the  fact  may,  per- 
haps, weaken,  if  it  does  not  remove  the  prejudice,  which  exists 
in  many  minds  against  any  use  of  "  notes"  by  a  preacher. 

His  diary,  during  this  winter,  bears  the  marks  of  a  rapidly 
advancing  maturity  in  the  Christian  life.  Who  would  not 
emulate  the  state  of  mind  which  is  thus  described! — 

"  Was  favored  with  clear  view^s  of  the  matchless  good- 
ness of  Christ,  and  my  own  vileness.  Was  so  overwhelmed 
and  astonished,  that  he  should  again  look  u^on  me  with  favor, 
that  I  could  scarce  believe  it  possible.  Seemed  to  be  drawn 
aw^ay  from  self,  and  to  feel  more  desire  that  God  should  be 
glorified  than  that  I  should  be  happy.  This  is  the  only  heaven 
I  aspire  to ;  and  to  have  such  a  temper  appeared  more  desirable 
than  ten  thousand  worlds.  Felt  sweetly  broken-hearted  and 
grieved  to  think  how  I  had  sinned  against  such  a  Saviour,  and 
thought  I  should  be  willing  to  undergo  any  sufferings,  if  I 
might  never  offend  him  again.  Longed  to  see  him  glorified  by 
others ;  for  I  almost  despaired  of  ever  glorifying  him  myself" 

And  who,  that  reads  the  following,  and  is  informed  that 
similar  records  continue  to  occur  at  short  intervals,  will  any 
longer  wonder  that  success  crowned  his  labors?  The  first 
extract  shows,  that  the  duties  which  he  urged  on  others  were 
first  practised  by  himself : — 

^'Jan,  2,  1809.     Rose  very  early,  and  enjoyed  a  sweet  sea- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  143 

son  in  secret  prayer.  Spent  the  day  in  visiting.  In  the  even- 
ing, felt  the  worth  of  souls  lie  with  peculiar  weight  upon  my 
mind,  and  was  enabled  to  wrestle  fervently  for  divine  influence. 
"  J«/i.  3.  Was  favored  this  morning  with  such  a  view  of 
the  worth  of  souls,  that  I  could  not  rest  at  home,  but  went 
out  to  visit  my  people,  and  stir  up  the  members  of  the  church 
to  pray  for  divine  influences.  Never  felt  such  love  for  the 
people  of  God,  as  this  day.  Seemed  willing  to  wash  their  feet, 
or  perform  the  lowest  offices,  because  they  belonged  to  Christ. 
Longed,  all  day,  to  do  something  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
conversion  of  sinners.  Wished  for  health,  that  I  might  em- 
ploy my  time  for  God." 

A  heart  so  intent  upon  seeking  the  salvation  of  men,  might 
well  be  supposed  to  dictate  language  like  the  following,  when 
the  tenement  in  which  it  was  lodged  was  too  feeble  to  be  re- 
moved from  its  resting-place  : — 

"  Jan.  7.  During  the  past  week,  the  word  of  the  Lord  has 
been  like  a  fire  shut  up  in  my  bones.  I  long  to  preach,  but 
cannot.     O  that  I  may  be  patient  and  resigned." 

The  minister,  who  furnishes  appropriate  employment  for  the 
members  of  his  church,  performs  one  of  the  most  useful  ser- 
vices connected  with  human  agency,  and  is  the  least  likely  to 
labor  in  vain,  and  spend  his  strength  for  nought.  A  conviction 
of  personal  responsibility  for  the  prosperity  of  religion,  deeply 
fixed  in  the  heart  of  every  private  Christian — a  responsibility 
which  all  ^  but  too  ready  to  throw  off"  upon  their  minister — 
will,  if  any  thing  can,  render  them  circumspect,  '*  instant  in 
prayer,"  and  "  always  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord."  It 
is  one  of  the  best  preparations  for  hearing  the  word  with  profit : 
for  with  it  they  will  listen,  not  to  cavil,  not  to  be  amused,  but 
for  edification,  and  that  they  may  learn  "  what  the  Lord  would 
have  them  do."  The  pastor,  who  is  sustained  by  the  daily 
fervent  prayers  of  his  flock,  and  by  their  frequent  united  pray- 
ers, has  a  ground  for  encouragement  and  hope,  that  will  not 
fail  him.  The  Spirit  will  not  leave  that  people  unvisited,  who 
so  appreciate  his  influences,  as  to  seek  them  daily  with  ardor 
of  desire,  and  to  whom  their  descent  would  be  as  welcome, 
and  as  refreshing,  "  as  cold  waters  to  a  thirsty  soul."  It  was, 
therefore,  a  well-advised  step  in  Mr.  Payson,  to  engage  the 
prayers  of  the  church  for  a  blessing  on  the  word  dispensed  by 
him,  and  for  a  general  revival  of  religion.  The  great  impor- 
tance of  the  duty  justified  his  special  exertions  to  secure  its  per- 


144  MEMOIR  OF 

formance,  and  both  he  and  they  had  much  reason  to  rejoice 
in  the  issue. 

'•  Portland,  Jan.  10,  1809. 
"My  dearest  Mother, 

"  I  have  been,  for  some  time,  endeavoring  to  estabhsh  among 
us  what  are  called  "  Aaron  and  Hur  societies,"  i.  e.  little  col- 
lections of  four,  five,  or  more  persons,  to  meet  before  service 
on  Sabbath  morning,  and  spend  an  hour  in  praying  for  a  bless- 
ing on  the  minister  and  ordinances.  They  began  new^  year's 
day,  and  we  seemed  to  have  an  immediate  answer  ;  for  the 
meeting  was  unusually  solemn,  and  we  have  reason  to  hope 
the  word  was  not  preached  in  vain.  Our  hopes  of  another 
revival  are  increasing,  as  there  seems  to  be  an  unusual  spirit 
of  prayer,  and  several  persons  have  lately  been  awakened. 
However,  God's  ways  are  not  as  our  ways,  and  we  may  be 
disappointed.  Indeed,  it  seems  impossible  to  me,  that  there 
should  be  any  attention,  so  long  as  I  am  here.  I  am  harassed 
with  such  violent  temptations,  from  morning  till  night,  and 
from  night  till  morning,  with  scarce  a  moment's  intermission, 
that  I  am  utterly  weary  of  life,  and  ready  to  despair.  It 
seems  as  if  I  must  one  day  perish  by  the  hands  of  this  accursed 
Saul,  which  seeks  to  destroy  me.  When  I  have  a  moment's 
ease,  the  word  of  the  Lord  is  like  a  fire  shut  up  in  my  bones, 
and  it  seems  as  if  I  must  preach,  if  I  die  for  it,  even  to  stocks 
and  stones,  if  men  will  not  hear ;  and  yet  I  can  only  preach 
once  on  the  Sabbath,  and  am  obliged  to  refrain  all  the  week. 
This  sets  melancholy  to  work,  and  gives  the  adversary  great 
advantage  over  me.  Yet  I  appear  to  know  it  is  all  right  and 
necessary  ;  but  this  knowledge  does  not  comfort  ^ud  strength- 
en me  as  it  ought.  Truly  the  righteous  scarcely%.re  saved ; 
and  we  must  through  much  tribulation  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  God.  Still,  however,  externally,  my  cup  runs  over  with 
blessings.  My  people  are  so  kind,  it  makes  me  utterly  asham- 
ed, and  Mr.  K.  is  like  a  father  to  me  in  every  thing.  But, 
instead  of  feeling  grateful,  and  being  able  to  glorify  God  for  his 
goodness,  I  am  so  overwhelmed  with  temptations,  that  I  can 
do  nothing  but  sit  still  and  tremble,  lest  they  hurry  me  into 
some  open  sin,  which  will  bring  dishonor  on  the  cross.  O,  my 
dearest  mother,  do  pity  me,  and  pray  for  me  ;  for  I  am  sifted 
like  wheat." 

The  customs  of  society  often  render  a  minister's  presence 
unavoidable  on  public  occasions  or  celebrations  of  a  nature 
not  easily  defined,  but  which  are  of  a  mixed  character,  partly 
secular,  and  partly  religious.     But  Mr.  Payson  would  never 


EDWARD  PAYiSON.  145 

degrade  his  official  character.  Wherever  he  was  present, 
there  the  ambassador  of  Christ  "  stood  confest."  He  never 
would  consent  to  be  the  mere  amusing  companion,  or  enter- 
taining speaker.  Those  whom  he  addressed,  whatever  the 
occasion,  were  reminded  that  they  were  probationers  for  eter- 
nity. Very  pleasing  evidence  of  this  has  been  found  in  some 
copious  remnants  of  a  performance,  which,  in  March  of  this 
year,  he  addressed  to  a  Musical  Society.  Who  would  look  for 
a  proof  of  the  existence  and  perfections  of  God  on  such  an  oc- 
casion ?  for  a  history  of  the  apostasy  of  angels — of  the  fall  and 
recovery  of  man — and  of  the  ultimate  destination  and  employ- 
ment of  redeemed  sinners?  Yet  all  this,  '^  in  strains  as  sweet 
as  angels  use,"  was  wrought  into  an  address  on  music. — Were 
it  his  object  to  pronounce  an  encomium  on  Music,  he  might, 
he  observes  in  the  introduction,  from  the  ample  materials  fur- 
nished by  orators,  poets,  historians,  and  philosophers,  of  past 
ages,  "  easily  compose  a  rich  and  unfading  wreath  of  applause, 
with  which  to  encircle  and  adorn  her  brows."     But, 

"  Without  resorting  to  the  hyperbolical  expressions  of  poetry, 
or  to  the  dreams  and  fables  of  pagan  mythology,  to  the  wonders 
said  to  be  performed  by  the  lyre  of  Amphion,  and  the  harp  of 
Orpheus, — I  might  place  before  you  the  prophet  of  Jehovah, 
composing  his  ruffled  spirits  by  the  soothing  influence  of  mu- 
sic, that  he  might  be  suitably  prepared  to  receive  a  message 
from  the  Lord  of  Hosts.  I  might  present  to  your  view  the  evil 
spirit,  by  which  jealous  and  melancholy  Saul  was  afflicted,  fly- 
ing, baffled  and  defeated,  from  the  animating  and  harmonious 
tones  of  David's  harp.  I  might  show  you  the  same  David,  the 
defender  and  avenger  of  his  flock,  the  champion  and  bulwark 
of  his  country,  the  conqueror  of  Goliath,  the  greatest  warrior 
and  monarch  of  his  age,  laying  down  the  sword  and  the  scep- 
tre to  take  up  his  harp,  and  exchanging  the  titles  of  victor 
and  king  for  the  more  honorable  title  of  the  sweet  Psalmist  of 

Israel But  I  appear  not  before  you  as  her  advocate ; 

for  in  that  character  my  exertions  would  be  superfluous.  She 
is  present  to  speak  for  herself,  and  assert  her  own  claims  to 
our  notice  and  approbation.  You  have  heard  her  voice  in  the 
performances  of  this  evening  ;  and  those  of  you,  whom  the  God 
of  nature  has  favored  with  a  capacity  of  feeling  and  understand- 
ing her  eloquent  language,  will,  I  trust,  acknowledge  that  she 
has  pleaded  her  own  cause  with  triumphant  success ;  has  given 
sensible  demonstration,  that  she  can  speak,  not  only  to  the  ear, 
but  to  the  heart;  and  that  she  possesses  irresistible  power  to 
soothe,  delight,  and  fascinate  the  soul.  Nor  was  it  to  the 
13 


146  MEMOHi  OF 

senses  alone  that  she  spake ;  but  while,  in  harmonious  sounds, 
she  maintained  her  claims,  and  asserted  her  powers ;  in  a  still 
and  small,  but  convincing  voice,  she  addressed  herself  directly 
to  reason  and  conscience,  proclaiming  the  most  solemn  and 
important  truths ;  truths  which  perhaps  some  of  you  did  not 
hear  or  regard,  but  which  deserve  and  demand  our  most  seri- 
ous attention With  the  same  irresistible  evidence  as  if 

an  angel  had  spoken  from  heaven,  she  said.  There  is  a  God — 
and  that  God  is  good  and  benevolent.  For,  my  friends,  who 
but  God  could  have  tuned  the  human  voice,  and  given  har- 
mony to  sounds  ?  Who,  but  a  good  and  benevolent  God,  would 
have  given  us  senses  capable  of  perceiving  and  enjoying  this 
harmony  ^.  Who,  but  such  a  being,  would  have  opened  a  way 
through  the  ear,  for  its  passage  to  the  soul  ?  Could  blind 
chance  have  produced  these  wonders  of  wisdom  ?  or  a  malig- 
nant being  these  miracles  of  goodness  ?  Could  they  have  caused 
this  admirable  fitness  between  harmony  of  sounds,  and  the  or- 
gans of  sense  by  which  it  is  perceived  ?  No.  They  would 
have  either  given  us  no  senses,  or  left  them  imperfect,  or  ren- 
dered every  sound  discordant  and  harsh.  With  the  utmost 
propriety,  therefore,  may  Jehovah  ask,  Who  hath  made  man's 
moutli,  and  planted  the  ear  ?  Have  not  I,  the  Lord  ?  With 
the  utmost  justice,  also,  may  he  demand  of  us,  that  all  our 
musical  powers  and  faculties  should  be  consecrated  to  his  ser- 
vice, and  employed  in  celebrating  his  praises.  To  urge  you 
diligently  and  cheerfully  to  gerform  this  pleasing,  reasonable, 
and  indispensable  duty,  is  the  principal  object  of  the  speaker. 
Not,  then,  as  the  advocate  of  music,  but  as  the  ambassador  of 
that  God,  whose  being  and  benevolence  music  proclaims,  do  I 
now  address  this  assembly,  entreating  every  individual,  with- 
out delay,  to  adopt  and  practise  the  resolution  of  the  royal 
Psalmist — I  will  sing  unto  the  Lord  as  long  as  I  live  ;  I  will 
sing  praise  to  my  God  while  I  have  my  being  J  ^      Ps.  civ.  33. 

He  then  carries  his  hearers  back  to  the  origin  of  the  world, 
when  "  every  thing  was  very  good,"  and  "  all  creation  harmon- 
ized together.  All  its  parts,  animate  and  inanimate,  like  the 
voices  and  instruments  of  a  well  regulated  concert,  helped  to 
compose  a  perfect  and  beautiful  whole ;  and  so  exquisite  was 
the  harmony  thus  produced,  that  in  the  whole  compass  of  crea- 
tion, not  one  jarring  or  discordant  note  was  heard,  even  by  the 

perfect  ear  of  God  himself The  blessed  angels  of  light 

began  the  universal  chorus,  *  when  the  morning  stars  sang  to- 
gether, and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy.'  " — He  describes 
''  the  music  of  the  spheres" — the  part  which  the  heavenly  bodies 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  147 

performed  in  the  concert — and  descends,  through  the  animate 
creation,  down  to  the  meanest  thing  that  hath  life  : — 

^^  E'en  the  dumb  fish,  that  swam  the  flood, 
Leaped  up,  and  meant  the  praise  of  God." 

"Of  t]v.<  universal  concert,  man  was  appointed  the  terres- 
trial leader,  ond  was  furnished  with  natural  and  moral  powers, 
admirably  fitted  for  this  blessed  and  glorious  employment. 
His  body,  r-xempt  from  dissolution,  disease,  and  decay,  was 
like  a  perfect  and  well-strung  instrument,  which  never  gave 
forth  a  false  or  uncertain  sound,  but  always  answered,  with 
exact  precision,  the  wishes  of  his  nobler  part,  the  soul.  His 
heart  did  not  then  belie  his  tongue,  when  he  sung  the  praises 
of  his  Creator  ;  but  all  the  emotions  felt  by  the  one  were  ex- 
pressed by  the  other,  from  the  high  notes  of  ecstatic  admira- 
tion, thankfulness,  and  joy,  down  to  the  deep  tones  of  the 
most  profound  veneration  and  humility.  In  a  word,  his  heart 
was  the  throne  of  celestial  love  and  harmony,  and  his  tongue 
at  once  the  organ  of  their  will,  and  the  sceptre  of  their  power. 

"  We  are  told,  in  ancient  story,  of  a  statue,  formed  with 
such  wonderful  art,  that,  whenever  it  was  visited  by  the  rays 
of  the  rising  sun,  it  gave  forth,  in  honor  of  that  luminary,  the 
most  melodious  and  ravishing  sounds.  In  like  manner,  man 
was  originally  so  constituted,  by  skill  divine,  that,  whenever 
he  contemplated  the  rays  of  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness, 
emanating  from  the  great  Sun  of  the  moral  system,  the  ardent 
emotions  of  his  soul  spontaneously  burst  forth  in  the  most  pure 
and  exalted  strains  of  adoration  and  praise.  Such  was  the 
world,  such  was  man,  at  the  creation.  Even  in  the  eye  of  the 
Creator,  all  was  good  ;  for,  wherever  he  turned,  he  saw  only 
his  own  image,  and  heard  nothing  but  his  own  praises.  Love 
beamed  from  every  countenance  ;  harmony  reigned  in  every 
breast,  and  flowed  mellifluous  from  every  tongue  ;  and  the 
grand  chorus  of  praise,  begun  by  raptured  seraphs  round  the 
throne,  and  heard  from  heaven  to  earth,  was  reechoed  back 
from  earth  to  heaven  ;  and  this  blissful  sound,  loud  as  the 
archangel's  trump,  and  sweet  as  the  melody  of  his  golden  harp, 
rapidly  spread,  and  was  received  from  world  to  world,  and 
floated,  in  gently-undulating  waves,  even  to  the  farthest  bounds 
of  creation." 

To  this  primeval  harmony,  he  exhibits  the  lamentable  con- 
trast which  followed,  when  sin  "  untuned  the  tongues  of  an-v^|g 
gels,  and  changed  their  blissful  songs  of  praise  into  the  groan^M 
of  wretchedness,  the  execrations  of  malignity,  the  blasphemies 
of  impiety,  and  the  ravings  of  despair.     Storms  and  tempests, 


148  MEMOIR  OF 

earthquakes  and  convulsions,  fire  fi^om  above,  and  deluges  from 
beneath,  which  destroyed  the  order  of  the  natural  world,  prov- 
ed that  its  baleful  influence  had  reached  our  earth,  and  afford- 
ed a  faint  emblem  of  the  jars  and  disorders  which  sin  had  in- 
troduced into  the  moral  system.  Man's  corporeal  part,  that 
lyre  of  a  thousand  strings,  tuned  by  the  finger  of  God  himself, 
destined  to  last  as  long  as  the  soul,  and  to  be  her  instrument  in 
offering  up  eternal  praise,  was,  at  one  blow,  shattered,  un- 
strung, and  almost  irreparably  ruined.  His  soul,  all  whose 
powers  and  faculties,  like  the  chords  of  an  ^olian  harp,  once 
harmoniously  vibrated  to  every  breath  of  the  divine  Spirit,  and 
ever  returned  a  sympathizing  sound  to  the  tones  of  kindness 
and  love  from  a  fellow-being,  now  became  silent,  and  insensi- 
ble to  melody,  or  produced  only  the  jarring  and  discordant 
notes  of  envy,  malice,  hatred,  and  revenge.  The  mouth,  filled 
with  cursing  and  bitterness,  was  set  against  the  heavens  ;  the 
tongue  was  inflamed  with  the  fire  of  hell.  Every  voice,  in- 
stead of  uniting  in  the  song  of  *  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,' 
was  now  at  variance  with  the  voices  around  it,  and,  in  barba- 
rous and  dissonant  strains,  sung  praise  to  itself,  or  was  em- 
ployed in  muttering  sullen  murmurs  against  the  Most  High — 
in  venting  slanders  against  fellow-creatures — in  celebrating 
and  deifying  some  worthless  idol,  or  in  singing  the  triumphs 
of  intemperance,  dissipation,  and  excess.  The  noise  of  vio- 
lence and  cruelty  was  heard  mingled  with  the  boasting  of  the 
oppressor,  and  the  cry  of  the  oppressed,  and  the  complaints  of 
the  wretched  ;  while  the  shouts  of  embattled  hosts,  the  crash 
of  arms,  the  brazen  clangor  of  trumpets,  the  shrieks  of  the 
wounded,  the  groans  of  the  dying,  and  all  the  horrid  din  ot 
war,  together  with  the  wailings  of  those  whom  it  had  rendered 
v/idows  and  orphans,  overwhelmed  and  drowned  every  sound 
of  benevolence,  praise,  and  love.  Such  is  the  jargon  which 
sin  has  introduced — such  the  discord  which,  from  every  quar- 
ter of  our  globe,  has  long  ascended  up  into  the  ears  of  the 
Lord  of  hosts." 

He  next  adverts  to  the  mission  of  Jesus  Christ,  followed  by 
the  descent  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  restore  harmony,  when 
"  those  benevolent  beings,  who  celebrated  the  birth-day  of  cre- 
ation, joined  with  tenfold  transports  in  singing  glory  to  God 
in  the  highest,  that  there  was  again  on  earth  peace  and  good 
will  to  men,  and  that  the  vacancy  which  sin  had  occasioned 
among  the  choirs  and  armies  of  heaven  would  soon  be  filled 
by  individuals  selected  from  the  human  race,  and  taught  to 
sing  the  song  of  the  Lamb,  by  the  influences  of  the  Spirit  of 
harmony  himself     To  teach  mankind  this  sacred  song,  and 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  149 

thus  prepare  them  to  fill  the  places  and  perform  the  offices  of 
those  angels  who  kept  not  their  first  estate,  is  the  great  object 
of  God  in  the  preservation  of  the  world,  in  its  various  revolu- 
tions, and  in  all  the  dispensations  of  his  providence  and  grace  ; 
while  to  learn  it  comprises  our  duty  here,  as  to  sing  it  will 
constitute  our  employment  and  happiness  hereafter.  This 
song,  however,  which  St.  John  heard  sung  upon  Mount  Zion 
by  the  one  hundred  and  forty  and  four  thousand,  can  be  taught 
by  none  but  the  Spirit  of  God." — He  then  urges  the  impor- 
tance of  piety  in  singers,  especially  such  as  lead  in  this  part 
of  worship,  and  enforces  the  duty  of  parents  to  cultivate  musi- 
cal talents  in  their  children.  "  Were  this  duty  duly  perform.- 
ed,  from  proper  motives,  we  should  soon  see  a  sight  which 
was  perhaps  never  seen  on  earth, — a  whole  assembly  employ- 
ed in  singing  praise  to  God.  But,  as  this  pleasing  sight  is 
probably  reserved  for  the  celestial  world,  let  the  leaders  in  this 
delightful  part  of  religious  worship  remember,  that  if  holiness 
becomes  God's  house  forever — if  it  is  required  that  those  who 
bear  the  vessels  of  the  Lord  should  be  holy — much  more  is  it 
required  of  those  who  are  the  mouth  of  his  people  in  singing 
his  praise."  In  a  solemn  application,  he  carries  his  hearer^ 
forward  to  the  time  when  "  every  tongue  in  the  assembly  will 
be  employed  in  praising  or  blaspheming — every  individual  be 
an  angel  or  a  demon." 

There  is  a  luxuriance  in  his  style,  at  the  time  of  writing 
this  address,  which  was  considerably  chastened  in  later  years. 
Taken  as  a  whole,  the  performance,  w^hile  it  was  in  perfect 
unison  with  the  occasion,  was  admirably  adapted  to  promote 
the  great  object  which  was  always  uppermost  in  his  mind,  and 
may  serve  as  a  specimen  of  his  talent  for  making  every  occa- 
sion speak  with  force  to  the  consciences  of  men. 

Bodily  infirmity  continued  still  to  cramp  and  repress  his  en- 
ergies, and  he  h^d  already  "  been  assured  by  his  physician,  that 
his  complaints  were  mortal." 

^^  April  26.  Was  excessively  weak,  so  that  I  could  do 
nothing  to  any  purpose.  Longed  to  lay  my  feeble  body  in  the 
grave,  where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary 
are  at  rest ;  not  that  I  was  weary  of  God's  service,  if  I  could 
serve  him  with  more  strength  and  sincerity ;  but  my  mind 
sunk  under  the  weakness  of  my  body." 

''  Portland,  May  11,  1809. 

"  The  Spirit  seems  still  to  accompany  the  word  among 

us,  and  the  attention  to  religion  is  rather  increasing.     Several 
13* 


150  MEMOIR  OF 

new  instances  of  conviction  have  occurred  lately,  which  now 
bid  fair  to  be  abiding.     *     *     * 

''  We  have,  this  year,  twenty  tithingmen,  instead  of  ten  last 
year,  and  none  the  year  before  ;  and  are  in  a  fair  way  to  have 
the  town  reformed,  at  least  externally.  Several  of  the  most 
conspicuous  leaders  in  the  race  of  pleasure  and  fashion  have 
lately  become  more  serious,  and  we  are  hoping  their  example 
will  be  followed  by  others.  The  grand  jury,  also,  begin  to 
perform  their  duty,  in  presenting  parishes  that  have  no  preach- 
ing, and  shutting  up  tippling  shops  and  bad  houses.  We  are, 
tlierefore,  encouraged  to  hope  that  God,  by  thus  removing 
some  of  our  external  spots  and  pollutions,  is  preparing  the  way 
for  an  inward,  real  reformation.  There  seems,  also,  to  be  a 
hearing  ear,  and  our  meetings  on  the  Sabbath  are  unusually 
crowded,  and  the  church  seems  to  be  unusually  humbled  under 
a  sense  of  their  deficiencies.  The  state  of  my  health  still  con- 
tinues a  clog  upon  me  ;  but  it  is  a  great  mercy,  and  I  cannot 
find  it  in  my  heart  to  pray  for  its  removal." 

Before  this  time,  he  had  felt  his  hands  strengthened  by  the 
settlement  of  a  highly-valued  brother  over  a  church  in  a  neigh- 
boring town  ;  but  new  trials  awaited  him,  which  put  the  in- 
tegrity of  his  principles  to  the  severest  test.  With  reference 
to  an  overture,  which  he  could  not  meet  without  sacrificing, 
in  his  own  view,  his  Master's  honor,  he  observes,  it  was  made, 
*'  hoping,  no  doubt,  either  to  stop  my  mouth,  as  ^Eneas  did 
that  of  old  Cerberus,  with  this  honey-cake,  or,  at  least,  to  dis- 
cover from  my  answer  how  I  meant  to  conduct."  He  was  re- 
markably circumspect  in  his  official  conduct,  quick  to  discern 
the  purport  and  bearings  of  every  act  on  the  interests  of  the 
church,  and  avoided  every  step  by  which  those  interests  would 
be  compromited. 

In  the  summer  of  this  year,  a  minister  was  ordained  over 
the  first  church  in  Portland.  His  conduct,  in  relation  to  that 
transaction,  has  been  the  frequent  topic  of  very  severe  animad- 
version, and  is  not,  even  now,  "  lost  in  silence,  and  forgot." 
Justice  to  his  memory,  therefore,  requires  that  the  grounds 
upon  which  he  proceeded  should  be  known.  The  first  refer- 
ence to  the  affair  is  contained  in  a  letter,  which  bears  date  not 
many  days  before  the  ordination,  and  is  in  these  words  : — 
*'  One  of  the  deacons  came  to  me,  representing  it  as  the  wish, 

not  only  of  Mr. ,  but  of  the  church,  that  there  might  be 

harmony  between  the  churches,  and  that  I  would  give  him  the 

right  hand.     I  told  him  that  I  was  much  obliged  to  Mr. , 

and  to  the  church ;  that  I  wished  for  harmony  as  much  as  they 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  151 

possibly  could ;  but  that  it  belonged  to  the  Council  to  assign 
the  parts,  and  that  no  one  could  pledge  himself  to  perform  any 
part,  at  an  ordination,  till  he  was  acquainted  with  the  candi- 
date, and  knew  what  were  the  sentiments  he  intended  to  in- 
culcate." After  stating  the  deacon's  reply,  expressing  his 
confidence  in  the  sentiments  and  character  of  the  man,  the 
letter  proceeds — "  I  told  him,  we  could  better  form  an  opinion 
of  the  candidate  when  he  came  before  the  Council ;  and  that 
I  hoped  we  should  find  nothing  in  his  conduct  or  belief,  which 
would  occasion  any  difficulty ;  and  so  we  parted.  How  it  will 
end,  it  is  impossible  to  say." 

This  is  not  the  language  of  a  prejudiced  mind,  condemning 
a  man  unheard,  and  "  taking  up  a  report  against  his  neighbor ;" 
but  of  one  who  had  learned  the  apostolic  lesson,  "judge  noth- 
ing before  the  time."  No  other  course  would  have  been  equally 
proper  and  scriptural.  His  principles  of  conduct,  in  this  case, 
will  bear  the  strictest  scrutiny.  Later  still,  he  thus  adverts  to 
the  subject : — 

"  The  ordination  is  just  at  hand,  and  engrosses  universal 
attention  in  town. — The  candidate  is  a  fine  scholar,  has  an 

amiable  disposition, and  has  treated  me  in  that  frank, 

open,  friendly  manner,  which  is  just  calculated  to  win  me  over 
to  his  side.  Add  to  this,  that  both  his  society  and  mine  are 
anxious  that  the  old  enmity  between  the  two  parishes  may  now 
be  done  away,  since  two  young  men  are  placed  over  them. 
But  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  act  as  duty  requires." 

Here,  certainly,  was  a  combination  of  motives,  powerful  be- 
yond all  others,  to  influence  a  man  situated  as  he  was.  Noth- 
ing, which  he  could  do,  would  have  so  immediately  raised  him 
in  the  popular  estimation,  as  to  have  approved  and  taken  part 
in  the  ordination.  The  excellent  general  character,  and  dis- 
tinguished attainments  of  the  candidate,  which  he  was  quick  to 
perceive,  and  forward  to  appreciate,  the  interesting  relations  of 
the  two  societies,  the  almost  universal  wish,  and  the  equally 
extensive  disappointment  and  chagrin,  which  would  follow 
upon  his  dissent,  and  numerous  other  circumstances,  pleaded 
w^ith  an  eloquence,  which  it  required  a  martyr's  firmness  to 
resist.  But  it  was  not  a  question  for  mere  feelings  to  decide. 
There  was  a  higher  umpire.  He  had  derived  his  instructions 
from  an  infallible  source,  and  they  left  him  no  discretionary 
power  in  the  case.  The  same  authority  had  prescribed  the 
qualifications  of"  a  good  minister  of  Jesus  Christ."     Nor  had 


]52  MEMOIR  OF 

he  forgotten  the  caution,  which,  in  circumstances  of  peculiar 
solemnity,  had  been  enforced  upon  him  respecting  the  exer- 
cise of  one  of  the  most  important  prerogatives  conferred  by  his 
commission.  The  result  of  the  examination,  and  of  a  compar- 
ison, in  this  instance,  of  what  was  developed  with  the  requisi- 
tions of  God's  word,  was  a  firm  conviction  that  he  could  not 
co-operate  with  the  Council  in  the  ordination.  Nor  did  he, 
like  some  others,  merely  decline  to  act ;  he  raised  his  hand 
against  proceeding.  He  did  not  only  evade  responsibility  on 
the  one  hand,  but  he  assumed  it  on  the  other.  His  opposition 
was  open  and  manly ;  and  he  found,  in  an  approving  con- 
science, a  satisfaction,  which  was  cheaply  purchased  by  the 
temporary  loss  of  popular  favor,  and  by  suffering  all  the  odium, 
which,  in  consequence  of  that  act,  he  incurred.  He  thus  al- 
ludes to  it  in  a  letter  to  his  father  : — 

"  The  ordination  is  over I  shall  not  trouble  you 

with  an  account  of  the  good-natured  speeches  which  are  made 
respecting  my  conduct.  You  can  easily  conceive  of  them, 
and  will  join  with  me  in  rejoicing,  that  I  share  the  blessedness 
of  those,  concerning  whom  all  manner  of  evil  is  spoken ^  false- 
ly,/br  Chrisfs  sake. — It  will  only  be  a  nine  days'  wonder  to 
the  good  folks  and  gossips,  who  will  lament,  in  very  pathetic 
strains,  that  Mr.  Payson  should  have  such  bigoted,  narrow, 
party  views,  and  that  there  cannot  be  harmony  and  peace  be- 
tween the  two  churches." 

Time,  instead  of  reversing,  has  confirmed  the  correctness 
of  his  decision.  The  difference  between  his  creed  and  that 
which  he  opposed,  is  now  generally  admitted,  by  the  adherents 
of  both,  to  be  as  wide  as  Mr.  Payson  made  it.  He  was  a 
magnanimous  opponent,  who  did  not  allow  a  difference  of 
opinion  to  interrupt  "  the  charities  of  life  ;"  and  his  conduct  in 
this  respect  was  reciprocated. — We  now  return  to  his  letters  : 

''June  5,  1809. 
"My  dearest  Mother, 

"  You  judged  right  with  respect  to  my  anxiety  to  hear  from 
home ;  for  after  the  first  of  your  letters,  giving  an  account  of 
my  father's  illness,  arrived,  I  could  scarcely  rest  till  the  arrival 
of  the  other ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  approaching  ordina- 
tion, and  some  promising  appearances  among  my  people,  I 
should,  ere  this,  have  been  at  home.  I  must  confess  that  I  am 
surprised,  as  well  as  grieved,  that  father  should  persist  in 
preaching,  when  it  is  so  clearly  and  indispensably  his  duty  to 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  153 

desist;  especially  after  the  admonitions  he  has  given  me  on 
that  subject.  He  would  see  and  allow,  with  respect  to  any 
other  person  in  the  same  situation,  that  it  was  wrong  to  preach. 
Perhaps  my  language  may  appear  almost  disrespectful ;  but  on 
this  subject,  I  am  too  nearly  interested,  to  use  the  cold  lan- 
guage of  strict  propriety.  I  cannot  be  silent ;  and  should  the 
consequences  which  I  fear  result  from  his  preaching,  it  would 
ever  be  with  me  a  subject  of  bitter  regret,  that  I  had  not  done 
all  in  my  power  to  prevent  it.  He  must  desist.  It  is  a  duty 
which  he  owes  himself,  his  family,  his  people,  and  his  God,  to 
desist ;  for  preaching  now  will  be  his  death ;  and  his  family 
and  people  will  repent  too  late,  if  they  do  not  prevail  upon  him 
not  to  preach  again  till  he  is  better.  Mark  my  words — for  I 
will  have  nothing  to  reproach  myself  with,  be  the  consequences 
what  they  may.  If  I  were  at  home,  he  should  walk  over  my 
body,  before  he  could  get  into  the  pulpit.  Excuse  me,  my 
dear  mother,  and  plead  with  him  to  pardon  my  boldness ;  but 
I  am  distressed  with  the  bare  apprehension  of  what  the  conse- 
quence may  be. 

"  June  7. 

"  My  health  continues  to  mend,  though  slowly.  I  get  over 
the  fatigue  of  preaching  much  sooner  than  I  did,  and  my  food 
and  sleep  nourish  and  refresh  me,  which  has  not  been  the  case 
till  lately.  The  religious  attention  appears  rather  to  increase 
than  diminish ;  but  though  it  is  pleasant  to  see  inquirers,  yet 
the  constant  anxiety  which  they  occasion,  lest  they  should  go 
back,  is  exceedingly  painful,  and  wears  upon  nature.  I  know 
it  is  wrong  thus  to  take  Christ's  work  out  of  his  hands,  and  to 
perplex  myself  respecting  events,  over  which  I  have  no  control  ; 
but  as  yet  I  cannot  wholly  refrain,  though  the  fault,  like  most 
other  faults,  carries  its  own  punishment  with  it.  I  am  at  pres- 
ent, unless  greatly  deceived,  in  the  worst  part  of  the  Christian 
race.  My  people  love  me,  but  I  cannot  enjoy  their  kindness, 
lest,  instead  of  rendering  me  thankful,  it  should  only  feed  pride. 
I  can  take  no  pleasure  in  any  success  that  attends  my  labors 
for  similar  reasons.  I  am  surrounded  with  blessings  more  than 
I  should  have  dared  to  hope  for ;  but  this  accursed  sin  turns 
them  all  to  poison  and  bitterness.  Were  it  not  for  this,  how 
happy  might  I  be !  But,  blessed  be  God,  this  shows  me,  more 
and  more  clearly,  what  an  evil  and  bitter  thing  it  is  to  forsake 
the  Lord  of  Hosts." 

''  Portland,  August  1,  1809. 
"My  dear  Sister, 

"  My  time  is  so  much  engrossed  by  parochial  affairs,  that, 
till  this  moment,  I  have  had  no  leisure  to  write,  and  must  now 


154  MEMOIR  OF 

Steal  time  from  other  things  which  require  my  attention.  You 
can  have  no  conception,  unless  you  were  present,  how  my  time 
is  taken  up.  Every  moment  is  mortgaged  before  it  arrives, 
and,  notwithstanding  all  my  exertions,  the  business  seems  to 
grow  upon  my  hands ;  so  that  I  am  ready  to  sit  down  in  despair, 
and  do  nothing.  If  every  day  was  as  long  as  ten,  there  would 
be  ample  employment  for  every  hour.  I  find  scarcely  any  time 
to  read  or  study,  and  am  constrained  to  go  into  the  pulpit  with 
discourses  so  undigested,  that  my  pride  is  continually  mortified ; 
and  though  it  lies  groaning  and  bleeding  under  continual 
wounds,  it  will  not  be  persuaded  to  give  up  the  ghost.  How- 
ever, so  long  as  God  is  pleased  to  carry  on  his  work  with  such 
discourses,  I  have  no  right  to  complain  or  be  discouraged ; 
since,  the  feebler  the  means,  the  more  he  is  glorified.  And  I 
hope  that,  some  time  or  other,  I  shall  learn  to  be  willing  to  be 
counted  a  fool,  that  all  the  glory  may  redound  to  his  wisdom. 
But  this  is  a  hard  lesson  to  learn.  To  be  willing  to  be  noth- 
ing, to  rejoice  to  be  nothing,  that  God  may  be  all  in  all ;  to 
glory  in  infirmities,  that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest  upon  us, 
— this  is  the  temper  which  I  pine  and  hunger  after  ;  but,  alas ! 
it  appears  at  a  distance  so  great,  that  I  despair  of  ever  reach- 
ing any  where  near  it  in  this  world.  If  we  could  put  God 
entirely  in  the  place  of  self,  consider  his  will  as  our  will,  his 
honor  as  our  honor,  his  happiness  as  our  happiness,  his  inter- 
est as  our  interest,  and  pursue  it  accordingly,  how  happy 
should  we  be !  And  how  happy  shall  we  be  in  that  world, 
where  this  will  be  the  case,  and  where  the  very  stump  of  that 
Dagon,  self,  will  not  be  permitted  to  remain  in  our  hearts,  as 
the  rival  of  our  blessed  Redeemer.  O,  to  be  holy  as  God  is 
holy — this  is  to  be  happy,  according  to  our  measure,  as  God  is 
happy.  Strive  then,  my  dear,  dear  sister,  strive,  wrestle,  pray, 
long  and  pant  after  holiness.  If  I  cannot  be  holy  myself,  yet 
I  long  to  see  others  holy.  If  I  cannot  love  and  praise  the  ever- 
blessed  Redeemer,  it  is  almost  heaven  sufficient  to  see  him 
loved  and  praised  by  others.  If  we  could  render  to  him  ac- 
cording to  his  benefits  ! — but  we  cannot,  we  cannot ;  we  must 
be  content  to  be,  as  it  were,  crushed  to  all  eternity  under  an 
insupportable  weight  of  goodness ;  for  even  the  disposition  to 
praise  him  for  favors  already  received,  is  a  new  favor,  which 
still  adds  to  the  mighty  debt ;  and  the  faster  he  enables  us  to 
render  back  what  we  receive,  so  much  the  faster  do  our  obliga- 
tions increase.  And  yet,  instead  of  praising  him,  we  are  con- 
stantly sinning.  I  hope  it  is  not  so  bad  with  others,  but,  with 
respect  to  myself,  there  seems  to  be  constant  strife  between  him 
and  me,  whether  I  shall  exceed  in  provoking,  or  he  in  pardon- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  155 

ing ;  whether  I  shall  succeed  in  destroying  myself  by  my  own 
madness  and  folly  against  his  will,  or  he  succeed  in  saving  me 
in  spite  of  myself.  But  in  this  strife  he  still  conquers,  and  will 
conquer.  I  have  done  every  thing  to  provoke  him  to  leave 
me  ;  but  he  will  not  be  provoked.  He  will  still  return  to  hum- 
ble me,  and  shame  me  ;  and  I  am  ready  to  call  on  the  rocks 
and  mountains  to  fall  on  me,  and  hide  me  from  the  tender,  ex- 
postulating, heart-breaking,  soul-subduing  glances  of  his  eye, 
which  fill  me  with  such  shame  and  confusion,  that  it  seems  as 
if  I  could  more  easily  endure  the  lightnings  of  his  indignation. 
Were  all  his  people  likp  me,  and  were  justice  done  upon  them, 
surely  they  would  be  sentenced  to  some  hell  more  dreadful 
than  that  which  is  prepared  for  others. 

"  We  have  still  considerable  attention  to  religion.  The 
number  of  inquirers  is  upwards  of  forty,  and  many  more  are 
serious.  We  had  hoped  for  hundreds  ere  this  ;  but  God  keeps 
us  waiting,  and  praying,  and  still  gives  a  spirit  of  prayer." 

''Portland,  Sept.  22,  1809. 
'  My  dearest  Mother, 

*^  The  attention  to  religion  still  continues.  Last  commun- 
ion, we  admitted  eleven  to  the  church,  and  next  Sabbath  we 
shall  admit  twelve  more.  The  appetite  for  hearing  seems 
insatiable,  and  our  assemblies  are  more  crowded  than  ever. 
Many  have  lately  joined  us.  However,  the  gospel  proves  a 
savor  of  death  unto  death,  as  well  as  of  life  unto  life.  Many 
seem  to  be  awfully  hardened,  and  many  severe  reflections  are 
cast  upon  religion  and  its  professors.  ' 

"After  telling  you  that  religion  thus  flourishes  among  us,  I 
am  ashamed  to  complain  ;  for  what  reason  of  complaint  can  a 
minister  have,  while  he  sees  the  cause  of  Christ  triumphant  ? 
Nor  do  I  complain  of  any  thing  except  myself  Every  earthly 
thing  is  imbittered  to  me,  and  the  enjoyments  of  religion  are 
kept  far  above  my  reach.  I  am  overwhelmed  by  one  wave  of 
temptation  after  another.  My  bodily  powers  are  kept  in  such 
a  continual  state  of  exhaustion,  and  my  nerves  are  so  weak, 
that  mole-hills  appear  to  be  mountains,  and  I  am  ready  to 
stumble  at  a  straw;  and  when  imaginary  evils  disappear,  I 
find  real  perplexities  and  difficulties,  which  weigh  me  down  in 
the  dust.  I  know,  indeed,  that  all  these  things  are  necessary ; 
and  when  I  am  left  in  my  own  possession,  I  would  not  wish  to 
have  my  burthen  lightened.  At  times  too,  I  am  "  holpen  with 
a  little  help,"  so  that,  though  cast  down,  I  am  not  utterly  de- 
stroyed. But  how  desperate,  how  inconceivable,  must  be  the 
wickedness  of  that  heart,  which  draws  down  such  sufferings 


156  MEMOIR  OF 

from  the  hand  of  the  compassionate  Saviour,  and  requires  such 

painful  remedies  to  heal  it.'' 

"Portland,  Nov.  I,  1809. 
''  My  dear  Sister, 

"It  is  no  small  disappointment  to  me,  and  I  flatter  myself 
that  it  will  be  some  disappointment  to  you,  that  I  am  under  the 
necessity  of  sending  this  inanimate  scroll,  to  see  and  inquire 
after  you,  instead  of  coming  myself,  as  I  expected,  and  partly 
promised.  But  my  health  does  not  absolutely  require  a  jour- 
ney this  season  ;  and  my  engagements  are  such,  that  I  know 
not  how  to  be  absent  a  single  day.  In  the  first  place,  the  sit- 
uation of  the  parish  requires  my  presence.  The  people  still 
have  a  hearing  ear,  but  there  is  more  opposition,  more  at- 
tempts to  mislead  young  converts,  and  turn  aside  inquirers, 
than  formerly ;  and,  therefore,  I  wish  to  be  with  them.  Be- 
sides, the  neighboring  ministers  are  stirred  up  to  more  dili- 
gence and  attention.  They  have  lately  adopted  the  custom  of 
keeping  days  of  fasting  and  prayer,  and  inviting  in  a  number  of 
preachers ;  and  I  have  some  engagements  of  this  kind,  just 
now,  which  I  am  unwilling  to  leave.  We  have  already  had 
three  days  of  this  kind  in  three  of  the  neighboring  towns,  and 
hope  to  extend  it  through  the  whole  association.  We  are  just 
establishing  a  Bible  Society,  also,  and  this  employs  considera- 
ble time  at  present ;  so  that,  with  these  and  other  things  which 
require  attention,  I  am  too  mjich  engaged  to  leave  home ;  and 
I  trust  you  will  not  suspect  my  affection  diminishes,  because  I, 
at  this  time,  prefer  duty  to  pleasure. 

"  My  hopes  respecting  increase.      He  tells  his 

people  some  solemn  truths ;  and  a  lawyer  from  ******^  who 
was  formerly  acquainted  with  him,  says  he  is  spoilt,  and  that, 
though  he  used  to  be  a  good  rational  preacher,  he  is  in  a  fair 
way  to  become  an  enthusiast.  What  a  glorious  instance  of 
sovereign  mercy  it  would  be,  should  God  bless  that  parish  with 
a  faithful  minister ! 

"  The  cause  of  evangelical  religion  is  certainly  gaining 
ground  in  this  eastern  country.  Mr.  J.  of  B.,  on  whom  the 
liberal  party  placed  great  reliance,  has  lately  come  out  full  on 
the  side  of  orthodoxy.  President  A.  was  thought  to  be  waver- 
ing, but  he  is  now  quite  decided ;  and  if  Mr. does 

not  disappoint  our  hopes,  I  think  the  =^***=^*  ##*#^-#  ^-jj  |^gg 
all  hopes  of  liberalizing  the  District  of  Maine.  Violent  and 
systematic  attempts,  however,  are  making  here  in  opposition  to 
truth.  Pamphlets  are  circulated  to  prove  that  all  the  hard 
texts  in  the  Bible  refer  to  primitive  times ;  and  the  new  Socin- 
ian  translation  of  the  New  Testament  threatens  to  produce 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  157 

mischief;  but,  while  the  enemy  comes  in  as  a  flood,  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord  is  lifting  up  a  standard  against  him.  Within  two 
years,  five  orthodox  ministers  have  been  settled,  or  are  about 
settling,  in  this  association,  which  includes  the  county  of  Cum- 
berland, and  many  others  preach  very  different  doctrine  from 
what  they  formerly  did." 

His  afflictive  melancholy  had  now  become  comparatively 
harmless  ;  for,  though  it  did  not  cease  to  distress  him,  its  ty- 
rannical power  was  broken,  and  it  much  less  frequently  imped- 
ed his  mental  efforts.  There  is  one  allusion,  however,  to  this 
mode  of  its  operation,  which  is  peculiarly  characteristic  : — 
"  Was  employed  in  vain  attempts  to  prepare  for  lecture.  Did 
nothing,  all  day,  but  learn  the  old  lesson  over  again,  that  with- 
out Christ  I  can  do  nothing.  Were  I  not  the  dullest  of  all 
scholars,  I  might  surely  spare  my  heavenly  Father  the  trouble 
of  teaching  me  this  lesson  again." 

In  his  frequent  seasons  of  illness,  and  his  multiplied  public 
engagements,  he  saw  cause  of  danger  that  his  private  devotions 
would  suffer  interruption  or  abatement.  To  guard  against 
such  an  evil,  appears  to  have  been  one  object  of  the  following 
resolutions,  which  were  adopted,  or  renewed,  near  the  close 
of  this  year  : — 

"  1.  I  will,  on  no  pretence  whatever,  omit  reading  the  Scrip- 
tures, with  prayer,  morning  and  evening. 

"  2.  When  practicable,  I  will  spend  one  day  in  every  week 
in  fasting  and  prayer. 

"  3.  I  will  allow  but  six  hours  for  sleep. 

"  4.  I  will  endeavor  to  redeem  the  time  by  being  diligent 
and  fervent  in  business. 

"  5.  I  will  live  more  to  the  glory  of  God  than  I  have  done. 

"  6.  I  will,  every  evening,  review  my  conduct  through  the 
day,  and  see  how  far  I  have  fulfilled  these  resolutions." 

To  the  peculiar  trials  which  distinguished  this  year,  the 
merciful  Redeemer  provided  an  antidote  in  the  spiritual  bless- 
ings which  he  bestowed.  Under  the  labors  of  his  servant, 
sinners  were  converted,  and  the  church  was  increased  by  an 
addition  of  forty-four  members. 
14 


158  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Permanency  and  strength  of  maternal  injluence — Correspond- 
ence— Death-bed  anguish^  how  alleviated — Disgraceful  inci- 
dent— Price  of  popularity — Reasons  of  former  trials  devel- 
oped— Letters,  S^c. 

The  reader  is  not  to  infer  that  the  subject  of  this  narrative 
ceased  to  "  give  himself  continually  unto  prayer,"  because  the 
daily-recorded  testimony  of  the  fact,  to  which  appeal  has  so 
often  been  made,  is  less  frequently  introduced.  This  was  an 
employment  of  which  he  seems  never  to  have  grown  weary, 
and  which  there  are  no  indications  that  he  ever  relaxed.  He 
'  dwelt  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High,  and  abode  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Almighty.'  His  accumulated  burden  of 
cares  and  sorrows  he  every  day  brought  with  him  to  the  throne 
of  grace,  and  retired  thence  relieved  from  its  pressure,  or 
strengthened  to  sustain  it. 

"  Dec.  29.  Was  enabled  to  agonize  in  prayer  for  myself  and 
people,  and  to  make  intercession  with  unutterable  groanings. 
My  heart  and  flesh  cried  out  for  the  living  God.  Felt  very 
strong  hope  that  God  was  about  to  work  wonders  among  us." 

How  well  his  mother  understood  his  character— how  saga-  , 
cious  she  was  in  her  aims  at  his  heart,  always  successful  in 
touching  the  chord  that  would  be  sure  to  vibrate — in  a  word, 
now  assiduous  and  valuable  a  comforter  she  was — is  apparent 
from  his  answers  to  her  letters  : — 

''  Portland,  Feb.  3,  1810. 
"My  dear  Mother, 

"  I  do  *  bless  Heaven '  if  I  am  made  '  the  joy  of  my  parents' 
heart,'  and  esteem  it  one  of  the  greatest  mercies  for  which  I 
have  reason  to  be  thankful.  Just  before  I  received  the  letter 
which  contained  this  consoling  assurance,  I  was  wondering 
what  such  a  poor,  miserable,  worthless  wretch  was  ever  made 

for,  and  why  I  should  be  preserved  in  existence But, 

if  I  can  afford  any  joy  to  my  parents,  or  to  any  one  else,  I 
think  I  am  willing  to  live,  let  my  trials  be  ever  so  great ;  and 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  159 

I  bless  God,  and  thank  you  for  sending  me  that  letter  just  at 
the  right  time.  It  proved  a  very  seasonable  and  refreshing 
cordial  to  a  fainting  spirit.  But  methinks  I  hear  you  ask, — 
*  Why  do  you  talk  of  fainting,  when  you  have  so  much  reason 
to  rejoice  and  praise  God  for  his  goodness  V  I  faint  because 
I  find  no  heart,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  goodness,  to  praise  him 
for  it.  I  faint  because,  while  I  feed  others,  I  am  left  to  pine 
in  hunger,  and  am  parched  with  thirst.  In  proportion  as  my 
labors  are  blessed  to  others,  my  sorrows  and  sins  increase ; 
and,  though  I  am  assisted  in  keeping  the  vineyard  of  others, 
my  own  runs  to  waste.  I  cannot  think  that  any  one  but  a 
minister  knows  any  thing  of  a  minister's  trials  ;  and  I  believe 
Paul  had  a  peculiar  reference  to  them  when  he  said, — '  If  in 
this  life  only  we  have  hope,  we  are  of  all  men  most  miserable.' 

*  4«:  *  * 

"  The  attention  to  religion  continues  among  us,  and  has 
much  increased  within  a  few  weeks.  It  seems  to  be  spread- 
ing more  among  the  men.  There  are  some  favorable  appear- 
ances in  the  neighboring  towns.  Last  week,  and  the  week 
before,  and  this  week,  I  have  attended  fasts,  in  different  places, 
which  have  been  observed  with  prayer  for  a  revival  of  religion, 
and  am  engaged  to  attend  another  next  week. 

"  I  preached  yesterday  on  our  Saviour's  words  to  his  disci- 
ples— "  All  power  is  given  to  me  in  heaven  and  in  earth." 
What  an  animating  assurance  to  his  people,  when  they  have  a 
strong  faith  to  take  hold  of  it !" 

"jPe6.  8.  Was  favored  with  great  fervor  and  freedom  at 
the  throne  of  grace  this  morning.  Longed  only  to  be  employ- 
ed as  an  instrument  of  glorifying  Christ,  and  was  willing  to 
drink  of  his  cup,  and  to  be  baptized  with  his  baptism,  if  I 
might  have  a  double  portion  of  his  Spirit.  In  the  afternoon 
and  evening,  attended  conferences,  and  was  grievously  disap- 
pointed to  find  no  new  inquirers." 

'<  April  17,1810. 
"My  dearest  Mother 

"  I  have  just  received  your  affectionate  letter,  and  thank 
you  most  sincerely  for  the  maternal  love  which  breathes  in 
every  line.  God  grant  that  I  may  be  made  worthy  of  all  the 
proofs  of  parental  affection  with  which  I  am  mercifully  favored. 
If  I  derive  any  pleasure  from  the  success  with  which  our  gra- 
cious Master  is  pleased  to  crown  my  labors  in  the  ministry,  it, 
in  a  great  measure,  arises  from  the  happiness  which  I  know 
this  success  gives  my  friends  at  home.     Next  to  glorifying 


160  MEMOIR  OF 

God,  by  doing  good  to  mankind,  it  is  my  chief  desire  to  be 
made  the  means  of  promoting  your  happiness. 

^  "Jr  ^  ^ 

"  My  situation  is  now  as  agreeable  as  I  ever  expect  it  will 
be  on  earth  ;  and  I  shall  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  change  it.  I 
now  hear  none  but  religious  conversation  ;  every  day  seems 
like  a  Sabbath,  and  we  have  a  little  image  of  heaven  upon 
earth.  You  will,  I  know,  join  with  me  in  blessing  our  boun- 
teous Benefactor  for  this  fresh  instance  of  his  goodness. 

"  I  rejoice,  most  sincerely  rejoice,  with  you,  and  especially 
with  my  dear  father,  in  the  hopeful  appearances  which  attend 
his  labors.  He  has  long  been  going  forth  weeping,  bearing 
precious  seed.  I  hope  he  will  now  be  enabled  to  come  again 
rejoicing,  bringing  with  him  the  sheaves  of  an  abundant  har- 
vest. I  still  feel  exceedingly  anxious  respecting  his  health, 
but  must  leave  it  with  God. 

"  My  own  health  continues  very  much  the  same — rather 
better  of  late,  if  any  different.  I  do  not  expect  it  will  be 
restored  till  the  attention  to  religion  ceases  ;  for  it  does  not 
answer  for  me  to  have  too  many  blessings  at  once. 

"  We  are  still  favored  with  the  presence  of  the  Spirit  of 
grace,  though  in  a  less  degree  than  formerly.  Appearances, 
however,  begin  again  to  look  more  encouraging.  The  young 
converts,  who  have  made  a  profession,  with  a  very  few  excep- 
tions, bid  fair  to  do  honor  to  the  cause.  Some  of  them,  espe- 
cially, advance  very  rapidly  ;  and  the  mouths  of  opposers,  who 
seek  occasion  to  blaspheme,  are  stopped.  The  congregation, 
and  especially  the  church,  continue  affectionate  as  ever.  In 
short,  I  am  a  wonder  to  myself,  and  can  scarcely  believe  what 
I  daily  see  of  the  goodness  of  God.  You  will  naturally  con- 
clude, however,  that  inward  trials  will  not  be  wanting  where 
outward  comforts  are  so  multiplied.  I  thought,  long  since, 
that  I  had  endured  every  thing  horrible  and  dreadful  that  was 
ever  felt,  heard  of,  or  conceived  ;  but  I  find  that  the  depths 
of  Satan,  and  of  a  heart  desperately  wicked,  are  not  so  easily 
fathomed.  These  unfathomable  depths,  however,  only  serve 
to  show  me  more  clearly  the  infinite  heights  and  depths  of 
Christ's  love  ;  and  I  know  that  he  who  delivered  me  out  of 
the  paw  of  the  lion  and  the  bear  will  deliver  me  from  every 
foe,  however  gigantic.  It  is  but  a  moment,  my  mother,  and 
we  shall  be  singing  the  song  of  redeeming  love  together  before 
the  throne.  Yes  ;  our  salvation  is  nearer  than  when  we  be- 
lieved. Every  moment  it  comes  hastening  on,  and  to-morrow 
it  will  be  here.  Yes  ;  to-morrow  we  shall  be  as  the  angels  of 
God.     O  for  patience  to  wait  for  the  glory  which  will  be  re- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  161 

vealed,  and  to  endure  the  previous  light  afflictions,  which  con- 
tinue but  for  a  moment !" 

The  affectionate  minister  has  joys  peculiar  to  himself,  or 
rather  to  his  office  ;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  his  trials. 
He  is  the  father  of  his  flock,  so  far  as  the  relation  supposes  a 
community  of  feeling  in  their  happiness  and  misery.  Incon- 
siderate transgressors  know  little  of  the  anguish  which  they 
bring  upon  the  pastor  who  warns  and  entreats  them  to  seek 
"  the  good  and  right  way  ;"  and  they  undervalue  his  counsels 
and  his  prayers  till  roused  by  some  affecting  providence,  or 
brought  down  to  the  very  gate  of  death,  and  then  there  is 
nothing  on  earth  which  they  so  much  covet.  The  case  men- 
tioned below  is,  perhaps,  a  marked  one  ;  and  yet  what  faith- 
ful minister  could  not  name  instances  which  form  no  distant 
parallels  to  this  ! 

"  May  12.  Was  permitted  to  draw  near  to  God  with  joy 
and  confidence.  O  how  astonishing  is  his  goodness !  A  little 
while  since,  I  thought  it  impossible  I  should  ever  be  delivered 
from  the  grasp  of  sin.  But  he  has  brought  me  up  from  the 
horrible  pit  and  miry  clay,  and  set  my  feet  upon  a  rock,  and 
put  a  new  song  into  my  mouth,  even  praise  unto  his  name. — 
Had  scarcely  fallen  asleep,  when  I  was  called  up  to  visit  a 
dying  woman.  Found  her  in  all  the  agonies  of  despair  ;  and 
her  dreadful  shrieks  pierced  my  very  soul,  and  almost  curdled 
my  blood  with  horror.  Prayed,  in  an  agony  of  spirit,  that  God 
would  snatch  her  as  a  brand  from  the  burning.  After  prayer, 
she  was  more  quiet,  and  sunk  into  an  imperfect  sleep.  Came 
away  broken  down  with  a  load  of  anguish. 

^^  May  13.  Sabbath.  Rose  languid,  and  exhausted  in  body 
and  mind.  The  shrieks  of  the  dying  woman  rang  in  my  ears 
incessantly.  Between  meetings,  was  called  to  visit  her  again. 
Found  her  composed  and  happy,  rejoicing  in  the  Lord,  and 
apparently  resigned  to  live  or  die.  On  examination,  found 
reason  to  believe  that  she  was  really  reconciled  to  God,  and 
yet  could  hardly  believe  it.  Could  scarcely  look  upon  it  as  an 
answer  to  prayer,  and  still  knew  not  how  to  avoid  considering 
it  as  such. 

"  May  17.  Was  much  enlivened,  to-day,  by  hearing  that 
a  remarkable  spirit  of  prayer  was  poured  out,  last  evening,  at 
meeting.  Could  not  but  hope  that  the  Lord  was  about  to  take 
the  work  into  his  own  hands.  In  the  evening,  attended  the 
conference  for  inquirers.  Was  still  more  encouraged  by  hear- 
ing that  the  Spirit  was  again  remarkably  present  at  a  prayer- 
14* 


162  MEMOIR  OF 

meeting  of  the  church  this  evening.  Felt  almost  confident 
that  the  Lord  was  about  to  make  bare  his  arm  in  a  wonderful 
manner.  Was  so  much  animated  and  enlivened  by  this  hope, 
that  I  could  scarcely  recover  sufficient  tranquillity  of  mind  to 
pray  that  my  hopes  might  not  be  disappointed. 

"ill/a?/24.  Was  excessively  feeble  all  day.  In  the  after- 
noon and  evening,  attended  the  conference  for  inquirers,  but 
found  only  one.  Was,  at  first,  discouraged;  but  afterwards 
reflected,  that  it  is  God's  method  to  bring  us  low,  before  he 


"  FHday  Eve,  June  15. 
''My  dearest  Mother, 

"  I  arrived  here,  this  afternoon,  after  an  agreeable  ride,  and 
found  a  house  of  mourning  waiting  for  me.  The  young  lady 
I  mentioned  died  last  Wednesday  morning.  The  grief  of  the 
family,  and  my  own  feelings,  you  can  better  conceive  than  I 
describe.  The  pious  members,  however,  are  wonderfully  sup- 
ported, so  that  they  are  an  astonishment  to  themselves.  The 
funeral  is  to  be  to-morrow,  having  been  delayed  one  day  for 
my  return. 

"Pray  for  me. — My  friends  at  home  are  much  endeared 
to  me  by  their  kindness  during  my  late  visit.  I  always  feel 
vexed  at  myself,  after  coming  away,  that  I  did  not  say  more 
on  that  subject,  and  seem  more  sensible  of  their  goodness, 
while  I  was  with  them.  But,  some  how  or  other,  it  is  contrary 
to  my  nature  to  tell  people  how  much  I  love  and  thank  them." 

"  July  19,  1810. 

"Grief  has  a  wonderful  efficacy,  as  you  observe,  in 

softening  the  heart ;  and  suffering  binds  us  to  fellow-sufferers ; 
so  that  I  cannot  tell  what  may  be  the  event. 

"  I  have  much  new  cause  for  gratitude   since  I  left  home. 

The  minister  at ,  a  smooth,  liberal   preacher,  has  been 

long  intemperate,  and  lately  fell  from  his  horse  into  a  slough, 
on  his  way  to  meeting.  He  was,  on  this,  dismissed;  and,  as 
he  was  not  the  first  bad  minister  this  people  had  been  cursed 
with,  they  have  contracted  a  strong  prejudice  against  the  Con- 
gregational clergy.  They,  however,  wrote  to  me  to  come  and 
preach  for  them  one  Sabbath,  if  I  could,  and  I  accordingly 
went.  I  was  treated  with  great  kindness,  had  a  very  crowdec^, 
attentive,  and  solemn  assembly ;  and  from  letters  since  receiv- 
ed in  town,  it  appears  that  not  a  few  were  deeply  affected,  and 
convinced  of  sin.  They  are  exceedingly  desirous  that  I  should 
come  again ;  and  unless  they  succeed  in  getting  a  candidate 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  163 

soon,  I  shall  go.  They  are  determined  to  have  none  come, 
who  are  not  orthodox.  If  I  had  health  and  strength,  I  might 
apparently  do  much  good  by  thus  preaching  in  different  places." 

The  youthful  reader,  especially  if  he  be  a  candidate  for  the 
ministry,  will  do  well  to  pause  over  the  following  instructive 
paragraph  : — 

"  As  you  suspect,  popularity  costs  me  dear ;  and,  did  it  not 
afford  me  the  means  of  being  more  extensively  useful,  I  should 
heartily  pray  to  be  delivered  from  it,  as  the  greatest  of  all 
curses.  Since  the  novelty  has  worn  off,  it  affords  me  no  pleas- 
ure ;  and  yet  I  am  continually  wishing  for  more,  though  it  feeds 
nothing  but  pride.  If  we  had  no  pride,  I  believe  applause 
would  give  us  no  pleasure.  But  no  one  can  conceive  how 
dearly  it  is  purchased  ;  what  unspeakably  dreadful  temptations, 
buffetings,  and  workings  of  depravity,  are  necessary  to  counter- 
act the  pernicious  effects  of  this  poison.  It  is,  indeed,  the  first 
and  last  prayer,  which  I  wish  my  friends  to  offer  up  for  me, 
that  I  may  be  kept  humble ;  and  if  your  too  great  and  un- 
deserved affection  for  me  will  exert  itself  in  this  way — that 
is,  in  praying  for  me — it  may  preserve  your  gourd  from  the 
blast  and  the  worm. 

"  Mr.  R.  remains  very  much  the  same.  His  physicians  give 
but  faint  hopes  of  his  recovery.  Why  am  not  I  cut  down,  and 
he  spared  ?  O,  I  am  tired  of  receiving  innumerable  mercies 
without  gratitude,  and  of  committing  innumerable  sins  without 

suitable  sorrow That  word  rest  grows  exceedingly  sweet 

to  me.     O,  "when  shall  I  fly  away,  and  be  at  rest? 

"  The  work  still  goes  on.     Dr. 's  church  have,  in  some 

measure,  caught  the  flame,  and  compelled  their  ministers,  re- 
luctantly, I  believe,  to  set  up  conferences.  They  have  said  so 
much  against  evening  meetings,  that  it  is  hard  now  to  set  them 
up.  But  they  are  obliged  to  do  it ;  and,  to  use  the  language  of 
the  world,  the  town  is  in  danger  of  growing  madder  than  ever." 

Confidence  in  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  divine  providence 
usually  reconciles  the  Christian  to  trials,  and  sustains  him  under 
the  occurrence  of  events,  which,  at  the  time,  are  wholly  inex- 
plicable. He  rests  on  the  kind  assurance  of  his  Redeemer, 
"What  thou  knowest  not  now,  thou  shalt  know  hereafter." 
And,  though  this  promise  refers  him  to  a  period  beyond  the 
confines  of  mortality,  when  the  light  of  heaven  shall  beam  on 
the  intricacies  of  Providence,  and  put  to  flight  the  darkness 
which  envelopes  them ;  yet,  even  in  the  present  world,  he  is  often 


164  MEMOIR  OF 

surprised  with  discoveries  of  the  design  and  tendency  of  such 
dispensations,  which  render  him  grateful  for  them,  and  cause 
him  to  bless  God,  who  made  them  a  part  of  his  paternal  disci- 
pline. In  retracing  his  path  through  life,  he  sees  his  most 
dreaded  calamities  connected  with  his  choicest  mercies,  his 
lowest  depression  with  his  highest  elevation — and  so  connect- 
ed, that,  without  the  former,  the  latter  would  not  have  been. 
That  which  threatened  the  destruction  of  his  ability  to  do  good, 
he  finds  to  be  his  highest  qualification  for  usefulness. 

Such  are  the  developements  which  already  begin  to  appear  in 
the  history  of  this  afflicted  and  beloved  man.  Henceforth,  the 
reader  wiU  revert  to  the  dark  shades  of  the  past  with  more  of 
complacency,  and  cease  to  look  even  upon  his  seasons  of  heart- 
rending spiritual  anguish,  as  worse  than  blank  portions  of  ex- 
istence. He  suffered  not  for  himself  alone ;  the  Church  of  the 
Redeemer  was  indirectly,  yet  largely  benefited  by  what  he  en- 
dured ;  and  many  of  her  members  were,  probably,  prevented 
from  making  shipwreck  of  faith,  and  sinking  into  irrecoverable 
despondency,  in  consequence  of  having  for  a  guide  and  coun- 
sellor one  who  had  narrowly  escaped  a  similar  catastrophe. 
The  amount  of  suffering,  which  his  own  mental  agony  was  thus 
the  occasion  of  preventing,  will  not  be  known  till  the  great 
day.  But,  long  before  he  exchanged  his  armor  for  the  victor's 
crown,  he  could  appropriate  the  language  of  Paul — /  now  re- 
joice in  my  sufferings  for  you,  and  fill  up  that  which  is  behind 
of  the  afflictions  of  Christ  in  my  flesh,  for  his  body's  sake,  which 
is  the  church, 

''  Portland,  Aug.  S,  1810. 
^'Mr  DEAREST  Sister, 

"  I  have  nothing  interesting  to  write,  and  my  spirits  are  so 
completely  jaded  and  exhausted,  that  they  will  not  bear  the 
fatigue  of  invention.  I  cannot  spiritualize,  nor  moralize,  but 
must  confine  myself  to  dull  narration ;  and,  what  is  still  worse, 
have  nothing  to  narrate.  I  have,  indeed,  one  piece  of  good 
news,  though  you  have,  probably,  he^d  of  it  ere  this.  Mr.  R. 
is  better,  and  there  are  great  hopes  of  his  recovery.  His  com- 
plaints, I  believe,  are  precisely  similar  to  mine. 

"  We  go  on  here  pretty  much  as  usual.  Satan  is  extremely 
busy  with  Christians,  and  a  large  proportion  of  our  church 
have  been,  and  still  are,  exercised  with  the  most  dreadful  and 
distressing  temptations.  I  now  understand  the  reason  of  my 
dreadful  trials  at  Marlborough.  Had  it  not  been  for  them,  I 
should  have  been  still  more  unfit  for  my  present  situation,  than 
I  am  at  present.     Often  should  I  be  utterly  at  a  loss  what  to 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  155 

say  or  think,  had  not  a  wise  and  gracious  Master  foreseen 
what  I  should  need,  and  taken  measures  accordingly. 

"  He  has  been  pleased,  of  late,  to  bless  my  endeavors  to  com- 
fort his  tempted  and  distressed  people  with  wonderful  success. 
I  often  stand  astonished  at  it  myself,  and  seem  to  look  upon  it 
as  a  greater  honor  and  favor,  than  even  to  be  owned  in  the 
conversion  of  sinners.  If  I  can  be  permitted  to  do  this,  I 
seem  willing  to  stay  and  suffer  every  thing  which  he  sees  fit 
to  lay  upon  me.  But  I  tremble  at  what  may  be  the  conse- 
quence. Those  who  find  my  endeavors  blessed  to  comfort 
them,  of  course,  grow  more  and  more  affectionate ;  and  I  fear 
lest  they  prove  guilty  of  creature-idolatry,  and  thus  provoke 
God  to  wither  their  gourd.  I  have  warned  them  of  the  danger 
of  this  in  private,  and  have,  at  last,  openly  preached  against 
it ;  but  God  does  not  seem  to  bless  it  to  their  conviction,  and, 
I  fear,  we  shall  both  smart  for  it.  He  is  a  jealous  God,  and  if 
his  people  put  a  servant  in  his  place,  wo  be  to  the  poor  crea- 
ture who  is  thus  set  up  against  him.  Pray  for  me,  therefore, 
and  pray  for  my  people.  When  I  ask  them  to  pray  for  me, 
they  only  smile,  and  reply,  that  I  need  not  their  prayers.  In 
short,  we  are  all  young  here,  and  have  little  experience ;  and 
if  God  does  not  prevent,  we  shall  rush  into  all  manner  of  ex- 
travagance. 

*'  Since  I  wrote  last,  I  have  been  to  preach  at  a  place  near 
this,  where  they  have  been  stupid  almost  to  a  proverb.  But  I 
hear  now,  that  conference  meetings  are  set  up  ;  the  minister  is 
roused ;  and  many  are  earnestly  inquiring  what  they  shall  do. 

"  Another  minister,  who  lives  about miles  from  this,  has 

lately  rode  into  town,  week  after  week,  to  attend  our  lectures. 
He  told  his  people,  that,  though  he  had  to  hire  a  horse,  yet  he 
was  always  amply  repaid.  He  has  been  very  lax,  but  a  great 
alteration  has  taken  place  in  his  preaching  and  conduct,  and 
there  is  considerable  attention  excited  among  his  people. 

"  Afi:er  all  this,  you  will  not  wonder  to  hear  that  I  am  borne 
down  with  heavy  burdens ;  pressed  out  of  strength  above 
measure,  so  as,  at  times,,  to  despair  even  of  life.  All  this  is 
necessary,  absolutely  necessary,  and  I  desire  to  consider  it 
as  a  mercy ;  but  it  is  hard,  very  hard  to  bear.  If  any  one 
asks  to  be  made  a  successful  minister,  he  knows  not  what  he 
asks;  and  it  becomes  him  to  consider,  whether  he  can  drink 
deeply  of  Christ's  bitter  cup,  and  be  baptized  with  his  baptism. 
If  we  could  learn,  indeed,  to  give  all  the  glory  to  God,  and  keep 
only  the  sin  and  imperfections  to  ourselves,  we  might  be  spared 
these  trials.  And  one  would  think  this  easy  enough  One 
would  think,  that  Jonah  could  hardly  be  proud  of  his  success 


166  MEMOIR  OF 

among  the  Ninevites  ;  and  we  have,  if  possible,  less  reason  to 
be  proud  than  he.  But  pride  will  live  and  thrive  without  rea- 
son, and  in  despite  of  every  reason  to  the  contrary." 

"  Portland,  Sept.  20,  1810. 
''My  dear  Sister, 

"  I  thank  you  most  sincerely  for  your  letter,  which  I  have 
just  received  ;  but  I  do  not  thank  you  at  all  for  the  reason 
which  you  assign  for  not  writing  more  frequently.  It  seems, 
forsooth,  that  I  am  so  wonderfully  wise  and  good,  that  you 
dare  not  write  me.  My  dear  sister,  this  is  little  better  than 
downright  mockery — not  that  I  suspect  you  of  a  design  to 
mock  me — but  your  commendations,  however  sincere,  are 
cutting,  very  cutting,  and  I  beg  of  you  to  wound  me  no  more 
with  them.  Go  and  congratulate  a  viretch  on  the  rack  upon 
the  happiness  which  he  enjoys  ;  tell  a  beggar  of  his  riches, 
an  illiterate  peasant  of  his  learning,  or  a  deformed  cripple  of 
his  strength  and  beauty  ;  but  mock  not  a  vile,  stupid  sinner, 
ready  to  sink  under  an  almost  insupportable  weight  of  guilt 
and  iniquity,  with  commendations  of  his  goodness,  or  a  blind, 
ignorant  creature  with  compliments  upon  his  wisdom  and 
knowledge.  You  are  ready,  perhaps,  to  look  upon  my  situa- 
tion as  enviable  ;  but,  if  you  knew  what  I  suffer  in  a  single 
day,  you  would  fall  down  on  your  knees,  and  bless  God  that 
you  are  not  a  minister.  Not  that  I  consider  it  as  a  small  favor 
to  be  placed  in  this  sacred  office,  and  honored  with  some  de- 
gree of  acceptance  and  success.  I  know  it  is  a  post  which  an 
angel  might  envy,  and  I  can  never,  to  all  eternity,  bless  God 
sufficiently  for  putting  me  into  it,  and  supporting  me  under 
the  pressure  of  its  duties.  I  would  not  part  with  the  privilege 
of  preaching  Christ  crucified  to  perishing  sinners,  and  of  ad- 
ministering to  the  consolation  of  God's  afflicted  people,  to  be 
made  monarch  of  the  world.  But  O  the  agonies,  the  unutter- 
able, inconceivable  agonies,  which  must  be  endured  by  those 
who  attempt,  with  such  a  heart  as  mine,  to  perform  this  work  ! 
I  shudder  with  horror,  to  think  of  the  scenes  through  which  I 
have  been  obliged  to  pass,  and  shrink  back  from  those  through 
which  I  must  yet  pass  before  I  reach  the  rest  prepared  for  the 
people  of  God.  It  is,  however,  some  comfort,  that  the  time, 
when  I  shall  quit  this  scene  of  trial,  cannot  be  far  distant. 
Nature  cannot  long  hold  out  under  what  I  endure  ;  and  I 
trust  that,  ere  many  years,  I  shall  be  safe  in  the  grave,  where 
the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest. 
If,  meanwhile,  I  may  be  preserved  from  insanity,  and  from 
wounding  the  cause  of  Christ,  by  falling  into  open  wicked- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  167 

ness,  it  is  all  I  ask  for,  and  perhaps  more  than  I  have  any 
reason  to  expect.  It  is  a  dreadful  thought,  that  no  Christian 
on  earth,  however  holy,  humble,  and  watchful  he  may  at  pres- 
ent be,  has  any  security  against  falling  into  open  sin  before 
he  dies.  As  to  resolving  that  we  will  not  thus  fall,  it  avails 
nothing.  As  well  might  a  stone  resolve  not  to  fall,  when  the 
power  which  upheld  it  is  removed.  You  will,  perhaps,  say, 
We  may  hope  that  God  will  uphold  us  for  the  sake  of  his  cause. 
So  David  might  have  hoped.  It  seemed  very  important  that 
he  should  be  preserved — and  yet,  how  he  fell  !  And  what 
reason,  then,  have  I  to  hope  that  I  shall  not  fall  ?  And,  if  I 
should,  it  would  injure  the  cause  of  religion  infinitely  more 
than  all  my  labors  will  ever  advance  it." 

The  following  letter  is  without  date,  but  cannot  be  materi- 
ally out  of  its  place  : — 

^*  My  health  remains  much  the  same. — I  have  enjoyed  more 
in  religion,  since  my  last  journey  to  Rindge,  than  during  my 
whole  ministry  before.  My  distressing  exercises  have  vanish- 
ed— I  sometimes  hope,  never  to  return  ;  and  my  thoughts  are 
so  unusually  drawn  upward,  that  I  cannot  avoid  concluding 
that  my  stay  on  earth  is  to  be  but  short.  My  church  are  many 
of  them  of  the  same  opinion.  They  tell  me  they  are  certain 
that  I  shall  not  continue  with  them  long.  Sometimes  I  am 
tempted  to  wish  that  my  expectations  may  soon  be  realized. 
At  others,  I  wish  to  stay  a  little  longer,  and  tell  sinners  what 
a  precious  Saviour  Jesus  is.  But  the  Lord's  will  be  done. 
Welcome  life,  welcome  death,  welcome  any  thing  from  his 
hand.  The  world — O  what  a  bubble — what  a  trifle  it  is  ! 
Friends  are  nothing,  fame  is  nothing,  health  is  nothing,  life 
is  nothing  ;  Jesus,  Jesus  is  all  !  O  what  will  it  be  to  spend 
an  eternity  in  seeing  and  praising  Jesus  !  to  see  him  as  he  is, 
to  be  satisfied  with  his  likeness  !  O,  I  long,  I  pant,  I  faint 
with  desire  to  be  singing.  Worthy  is  the  Lamb — to  be  extol- 
ling the  riches  of  sovereign  grace — to  be  casting  the  crown  at 
the  feet  of  Christ !  And  why  may  we  not  do  all  this  on  earth? 
My  dearest  sister,  we  may  do  it,  if  it  is  not  our  own  fault. 
Pause  a  moment,  and  try  to  conceive  how  they  feel,  and  what 
they  are  this  moment  doing  in  heaven.  Pause  and  reflect  till 
you  hear  their  songs,  and  feel  your  heart  glow  with  their  love. 
Then  shout  aloud, ''  Worthy  is  the  Lamb ;  for  thou  wast  slain, 
and  hast  redeemed  me  by  thy  blood.  Worthy  is  the  Lamb, 
who  was  slain,  to  receive  glory,  and  blessing,  and  honor,  and 
power  !"     But  I  must  desist. 


1^  MEMOIR  OF 

"  Remember  me  most  affectionately  to  our  dear  parents ; 
and  I  hope  that  they  and  you  are  willing  that  I  should  go  to 
heaven  first." 


"  Portland,  Dec.  10,  1810. 
"  My  dearest  Mother, 

"  Since  my  return,  it  has  pleased  my  adorable  Saviour,  in 
his  sovereign  mercy,  to  give  me  clearer  and  more  transporting 
views  of  himself  than  I  have  ever  before  enjoyed  ;  and  I  have 
no  leisure  or  thoughts  to  bestow  on  any  thing  else.  He  has 
brought  me  up  out  of  the  horrible  pit,  where  I  have  so  long 
been  sinking,  and  put  a  new  song  in  my  mouth  ;  and  O  that 
all  creation  would  join  with  me  in  singing  his  praises !  I  have 
sometimes  heard  of  spells  and  charms  to  excite  love,  and  have 
wished  for  them,  when  a  boy,  that  I  might  cause  others  to  love 
me.  But  how  much  more  do  I  now  wish  for  some  charm 
which  should  lead  men  to  love  the  Saviour  !  What  would  I 
not  give  for  the  power  to  make  sinners  love  him — for  the  fac- 
ulty of  describing  his  beauties  and  glories  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  excite  warmer  affections  towards  him  in  the  hearts  of 
Christians  !  Could  I  paint  a  true  likeness  of  him,  methinks 
I  should  rejoice  to  hold  it  up  to  the  view  and  admiration  of  all 
creation,  and  be  hid  behind  it  forever.  It  would  be  heaven 
enough  to  hear  him  praised  and  adored,  though  no  one  should 
know  or  care  about  insignificant  me.  But  I  cannot  paint 
him ;  I  cannot  describe  him  ;  I  cannot  make  others  love  him  ; 
nay,  I  cannot  love  him  a  thousandth  part  so  much  as  I  ought 
myself  I  faint,  I  sink  under  the  weight  of  infinite,  insupport- 
able obligations.  O  for  an  angel's  tongue — O  for  the  tongues 
often  thousand  angels,  to  sound  his  praises  !  I  would  fain  do 
something  for  him,  but  I  can  do  nothing.  I  cannot  even  at- 
tempt to  do  any  thing  without  his  grace  ;  and  the  more  I  am 
enabled  to  do  in  his  service,  so  much  the  more  is  the  load  of 
obligation  increased.  O  that  God,  who  alone  is  able,  would 
glorify  his  Son  !  This,  at  present,  is  all  my  salvation,  and  all 
my  desire,  that  Christ  may  be  glorified.  For  this  reason,  I 
long  and  pray  for  a  revival.  I  long  that  the  blessed  Jesus 
should  receive  some  more  suitable  returns  for  his  wondrous 
love  to  our  ruined  race.  We  are  hoping  that  this  will  be  the 
case  here.  I  hope  the  church  begin  to  awake  and  pray  more 
earnestly  than  ever,  and  that  we  shall  yet  see  hundreds  here 
praising  the  ever-blessed  Redeemer.  It  seems  of  no  conse- 
quence what  becomes  of  me.  It  seems  of  no  consequence 
what  becomes  of  sinners,  comparatively  speaking.  But,  O,  it 
is  of  infinite  consequence  that  Christ  should  be  glorified.     My 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  109 

dearest  mother,  do  strive  to  love  him  more  than  ever.  Do 
strive  to  make  others  love  him.  O,  if  it  was  not  for  a  hope  of 
doing  something  for  his  glory,  how  could  we  be  content  to  live 
a  single  hour  absent  from  his  presence  above  ! 

"  I  shall  not  wonder  if  you  think  me  mad.  I  have  been 
mad,  and  am  just  beginning  to  see  my  madness.  O  how  little 
zeal,  how  little  love,  have  I  manifested  !  How  madly  have  I 
misimproved  my  time  and  talents  !  how  wretchedly  neglect- 
ed the  all-important  work  to  which  I  am  called  !  how  un- 
gratefully requited  the  best  of  Saviours  !  How  often  have  I 
called  his  love  and  faithfulness  in  question,  at  the  very  time 
he  was  taking  the  best  possible  measures  to  promote  my  hap- 
piness !  Now  he  returns  to  humble  me,  and  shame  me  for 
my  folly  and  ingratitude.  O,  I  know  not  how  to  bear  this 
astonishing,  overwhelming  goodness  !  Methinks  I  could  bear 
his  anger — but  his  love  cuts  me  to  the  heart.  O  that  I  may 
be  dumb,  and  not  open  my  mouth  any  more,  since  he  is  paci- 
fied towards  me  for  all  that  I  have  done  !  O  that,  for  the  re- 
mainder of  life,  I  could  hear  of  nothing,  think  of  nothing, 
speak  of  nothing,  but  the  wonders  of  his  person,  his  charac- 
ter, and  redeeming  love  !  But,  unless  he  prevents  it,  I  shall 
wander  again,  and  act  over,  not  only  once,  but  often,  all  my 
past  sins.  It  seems  now  infinitely  better  to  die,  than  to  be 
guilty  of  this ;  but  he  knows,  and  will  do,  what  is  best." 

"  Dec.  16.  Sabbath.  This  day  completes  three  years  since 
my  ordination.  What  a  miserable,  unprofitable  servant  have 
I  been  !  In  the  afternoon,  preached,  with  much  difficulty, 
from  Ezekiel,  xxxiii.  7-9.  Was  much  affected,  and  my  hearers 
appeared  scarcely  less  so.  Came  home  excessively  fatigued, 
but  rejoicing  in  God." 

This  year,  forty-two  souls  were  gathered  into  the  church. 
15 


170  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Holy  aspirations — Gratitude  to  the  Saviour — Multiplied  la- 
bors— Novel  family  scene — Danger  averted — ^'  Curious 
frame^^  ^Flattery  deprecated — His  marriage — Becomes 
sole  pastor  of  the  church — Retrospect  of  the  year. 

"  Dec.  17,  1810.  I  now  commence  the  fourth  year  of  my 
ministry.  Whether  I  shall  live  to  finish  it  God  only  knows. 
O  that  it  may  be  spent  to  better  purpose  than  those  which  are 
passed  ! 

"  Dec.  29.  Felt  the  blessed  effects  of  casting  all  my  cares 
upon  him  who  careth  for  me.  In  family  prayer,  was  most  un- 
usually drawn  out  towards  God,  and  felt  as  much  like  an  in- 
habitant of  heaven  as  I  ever  expect  to  feel  here.  All  earthly 
objects  were  swallowed  up  ;  self  appeared  to  be  nothing,  and 
God  to  be  all  in  all.  Felt  as  if  my  time  on  earth  would  be 
short.  I  was  in  a  strait  betwixt  two,  having  a  desire  to  depart 
and  be  with  Christ,  and  yet  wishing  to  stay,  that  I  might  tell 
others  what  a  precious  Saviour  he  is.  But  the  Lord's  will  be 
done.     Welcome  any  thing  which  he  pleases  to  send. 

^^  Dec.  31.  Spent  the  day  in  visiting.  In  the  evening,  met 
a  number  of  Christian  friends,  and  had  a  sweet  season  in  con- 
versing upon  heaven.  Our  hearts  seemed  to  burn  within  us, 
and  it  was  a  little  foretaste  of  heaven." 

These  quotations  furnish  pretty  fair  specimens  of  his  reli- 
gious feelings  for  several  months,  excepting  those  intervals 
when  he  was  greatly  reduced  and  disheartened  by  sickness. 
On  emerging  from  the  darkness  of  such  a  season,  he  writes  : — 

'^  Jan.  10,  1811.  This  morning,  God  was  pleased  to  return, 
and  lift  me  out  of  the  dust.  The  great  comforts  with  which  I 
was  favored,  some  time  since,  rendered  me  proud,  and  I  need- 
ed a  season  of  darkness  to  humble  me.  Had  much  freedom, 
and  some  brokenness  of  heart,  this  morning,  in  secret  and 
family  prayer,  and  some  ability  to  plead  with  God  not  to  for- 
sake us.     O  how  sovereign  and  free  is  his  grace  1" 

Under  the  same  date,  he  writes  to  his  mother  : — 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  171 

*'  Last  Sabbath  was  communion  with  us.  I  preached  from 
Zech.  iii.  2  :  Is  not  this  a  brand  plucked  out  of  the  fire  ?  What 
a  just  and  striking  description  of  every  redeemed  sinner  !  and 
what  a  glorious  idea  does  it  afford  us  of  the  work  of  redem.p- 
tion !  To  snatch  a  smoking  brand  from  eternal  burnings,  and 
plant  it  among  the  stars  in  the  firmament  of  heaven,  there  to 
shine  hke  the  sun  forever — O,  what  a  glorious  work  is  this ! 
a  work  worthy  of  God !  a  work  which  none  but  God  could 
perform.  Such  a  brand  am  I — a  brand  yet  smoking  with 
the  half-extinguished  fires  of  sin  ;  a  brand,  scorched  and  black- 
ened by  the  flames  of  hell.  What  then  do  I  owe  to  him,  who 
entered  the  furnace  of  divine  wrath,  that  he  might  bring  me 
out  1  who  spread  himself  over  me  as  a  shield  from  that  fiery 
storm,  which  would  have  set  me  forth  an  example,  like  Sodom, 
suffering  the  vengeance  of  eternal  fire. 

^'  I  have  no  heart  to  speak  or  write  about  any  thing  but  Jesus ; 
and  yet  I  have  little  patience  to  write  about  him  in  our  miserably 
defective  language.  O  for  a  language  suitable  to  speak  his 
praises,  and  describe  his  glory  and  beauty  !  But  they  cannot 
be  described — they  cannot  be  conceived ;  for  "  no  man  know- 
eth  the  Son,  but  the  Father."  What  a  wonderful  idea  does 
that  text  give  us  of  the  Son !  Saints  in  heaven  do  not  know 
him  perfectly  ;  even  the  angels  do  not.  None  but  the  Father 
is  able  to  comprehend  all  his  excellence.  Yet  various,  great, 
unsearchable,  infinite,  as  are  his  excellences,  they  are  all  ours  ; 
our  Saviour,  our  Head,  "our  flesh  and  our  bone."  O,  won- 
der!— how  passing  wonder  is  this!  Methinks,  if  I  could  bor- 
row, for  a  moment,  the  archangel's  trump,  and  make  heaven, 
earth  and  hell  resound  with  "  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was 
slain!"  I  could  contentedly  drop  into  nothing.  But  no^ — I 
should  wish  to  live,  and  make  them  resound  with  his  name 
through  eternity.  What  a  transporting  thought — to  spend  an 
eternity  in  exalting  God  and  the  Lamb  •  in  beholding  their  glory, 
and  hearing  them  extolled  by  all  creatures ! — this  is  heaven  in- 
deed. To  be  swallowed  up  and  lost  in  God;  to  have  our 
spirits  embraced,  wrapped  up  in  his  all-infolding  Spirit;  to 
forget  ourselves,  and  think  only  of  him  ;  to  lose,  in  a  manner, 
our  own  separate  existence,  and  exist  only  in  him ;  to  have  his 
glory  all  in  all  to  us ; — this  is,  indeed,  a  far  more  exceeding 
and  eternal  weight  of  glory." 

About  a  month  later,  he  gives  this  account  of  their  spiritual 
prospects : — "  Our  hopes  of  increasing  attention  begin  to  revive 
again.  Some  recent  instances  of  conviction  have  taken  place, 
and  we  have  about  thirty  very  serious  inquirers.     The  church, 


172  MEMOIR  OF 

too,  are  more  roused,  and  we  have  as  yet  had  no  scandals 
among  us  for  the  world  to  take  hold  of.  I  cannot  but  hope, 
that  God  designs  to  raise  up  a  church  here,  which  will  shine 
bright,  and  be  like  a  city  set  on  a  hill.  Satan  buffets  them 
sorely  ;  but  the  more  he  buffets  them,  the  faster  they  grow.  I 
hope  yet,  if  God  pleases,  to  see seated  with  us  at  the  com- 
munion table.     It  would,  I  doubt  not,  rejoice  your  very  heart." 

Some  idea  of  the  variety  and  amount  of  his  labors  may  be 
collected  from  a  single  sentence,  which  is  incidentally  intro- 
duced into  a  letter,  dated  February  17 : — "  I  preach,  or  do  what 
is,  at  least,  as  laborious,  six  nights  in  a  week,  besides  talking, 
incessantly,  a  considerable  part  of  every  day."  It  is  not  im- 
probable, that,  to  his  private  intercourse,  not  less  than  his  public 
addresses,  the  rapid  prosperity  of  religion  is  to  be  ascribed. 
His  inventive  genius  seemed  to  delight  in  finding  out  as  many 
ways  as  possible,  by  which  a  religious  influence  might  be 
brought  to  bear  upon  those  to  whom  he  had  access.  Take 
the  following  domestic  scene  as  an  illustration  :  it  is  unques- 
tionably the  offspring  of  his  own  pious  ingenuity ;  for  it  bears 
as  infallible  miarks  of  its  parentage,  as  the  description  of  it 
does  of  his  pen  : — 

"  I  will  give  you  a  little  sketch  of  our  family  way  of 

living,  that  you  may  adopt  it  if  you  please.  In  the  first  place, 
we  have  agreed,  that,  if  either  of  us  says  a  word,  which  tends 
in  the  least  to  the  discredit  of  any  person,  the  rest  shall  ad- 
monish the  offender ;  and  this  has  entirely  banished  evil-speak- 
ing from  among  us.  In  the  next  place,  we  are  careful,  es- 
pecially in  the  early  part  of  the  day,  as  at  breakfast,  to  con- 
verse on  nothing  which  is  inconsistent  with  maintaining  a 
prayerful  frame.  Christians,  I  believe,  generally  think  they 
do  pretty  well  if  they  pray  twice  a  day ;  but  I  see  not  why  we 
are  not  just  as  much  commanded  to  pray  without  ceasing,  as 
to  pray  at  all.  We  sometimes,  however,  allow  our  minds  a 
little  relaxation  at  dinner,  by  conversing  on  other  subjects 
than  those  which  are  strictly  religious.  At  the  beginning  of 
evening,  before  the  candles  are  brought  in,  if  I  am  at  home, 
which  is  not  very  often  the  case,  we  all  sit  down,  and  take  a 
little  tour  up  to  heaven,  and  see  what  they  are  doing  there. 
We  try  to  figure  to  ourselves  how  they  feel,  and  how  we  shall 
feel,  and  what  we  shall  do;  and  often,  while  we  are  trying  to 
imagine  how  they  feel,  our  own  feelings  become  more  heaven- 
ly ;  and  sometimes  God  is  pleased  to  open  to  us  a  door  in 
heaven,  so  that  we  get  a  glimpse  of  what  is  transacting  there — 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  173 

and  this  fills  us  so  full  of  impatience,  that  we  can  scarcely  wait 
till  death  comes  to  carry  us  home.  If  we  cannot  get  together 
before  tea,  for  this  purpose,  we  take  a  little  time  after  prayers, 
before  separating  for  the  night ;  and,  I  assure  you,  it  forms  an 
excellent  preparative  for  sweet  sleep. — But  enough  of  this  at 
present ;  if  you  like  it,  I  will  tell  you  more  by  and  by." 

"  We  have  been  in  great  danger  from  fire.    It  was  truly 

of  the  Lord's  mercies,  that  we  were  not  consumed,  with  a  con- 
siderable part  of  the  town.  ^  Just  as  the  water  began  to  fail,  and 
all  hopes  were  over,  the  fire  abated.  I  was  so  much  fatigued 
by  over  exertion  in  removing  our  things,  that  I  was  miserably 
unwell  for  a  fortnight,  but  am  now  recovered.  Some  ac- 
knowledge the  goodness  of  God  in  .sparing  the  town;  but  others 
are  dreadfully  hardened.  One  poor  creature,  as  soon  as  the 
fire  was  extinguished,  cried  out,  "  Well,  we  have  got  it  out, 
but  no  thanks  to  Payson,  nor  God  neither."  Another,  after 
meeting,  the  ensuing  Sabbath,  observed,  that  he  "  did  not  like 
this  giving  all  the  glory  to  God  ;  but  that  man  ought  to  have, 
at  least,  some  part  of  the  glory  of  putting  out  the  fire."  This 
is,  indeed,  the  natural  language  of  every  heart,  but  few  like  to 
express  it  so  openly. 

"  I  fear  that  religion  is  on  the  decline  among  us.  There  is 
still,  however,  considerable  attention,  and  we  have  had  a  few 
remarkable  instances  of  conversion." 

^^  March  1.  Had  a  most  violent  headache,  and  was  almost 
distracted ;  yet  was  obliged  to  preach  in  the  evening.  Found 
many  more  present  than  I  expected,  and  was  unusually  assist- 
ed, and  the  people  were  very  solemn.  Most  gladly  will  I  glory 
in  my  infirmities,  that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest  upon  me  ; 
for  when  I  am  weak,  then  I  am  strong." 

"  Portland,  March  25,  1811 . 
"My  dear  Mother, 

"  Satan  rages  most  violently  against  Christ's  sheep,  and 

I  am  almost  constantly  employed  in  trying  to  counsel  and  com- 
fort them,  under  their  manifold  temptations.  However,  the 
more  he  rages,  the  faster  they  grow ;  though  I  have  had  se- 
rious fears  respecting  some  of  them,  that  they  would  lose  life, 
or  reason,  or  both.  I  now  find  why  my  gracious  Master  has 
suffered  me  to  be  so  grievously  tormented  in  times  past.  How 
miserably  qualified  should  I  otherwise  have  been  to  speak  a 
word  in  season  to  them  that  are  weary  ! — Still  I,  I,  I !  nothing 
15* 


174  MEMOIR  OF 

but  I's — seven  in  half  a  page.  Well,  I  don't  care — I  .am  writ- 
ing to  my  mother,  and  I  know  she  loves  to  hear  about  /;  so  I 
will  proceed,  and  tell  her  about  a  half-sleeping,  half-waking 
dream  I  had  the  other  morning.  If  it  does  her  as  much  good 
as  it  did  me,  it  won't  be  paper  lost. 

"After  a  curious  kind  of  frame  in  sleep,  I  waked  myself  up 
v.ith  exclaiming — "  Lord,  why  is  it  that  thou  art  never  weary 
of  heaping  favors  on  ungrateful,  perverse,  stubborn  wretches, 
who  render  thee  only  evil  for  good  ?"  In  a  moment,  he  seem- 
ed to  reply  as  powerfully  as  if  he  had  spoken  with  an  audible 
voice — "  Because  I  am  never  weary  of  gratifying  my  dear  Son, 
and  showing  the  greatness  of  my  love  to  him.  Till  I  am  weary 
of  him,  and  cease  to  love  him,  I  shall  never  be  weary  of  heap- 
ing favors  on  his  friends,  however  unworthy." — These  words, 
it  is  true,  contain  nothing  more  than  an  obvious  truth  ;  but 
they  conveyed  more  to  my  mind  than  all  the  books  I  ever  read. 
If  you  meditate  upon  them,  perhaps  they  may  convey  some- 
thing to  yours.  What  strong  confidence  are  they  suited  to 
inspire,  if  we  realize  their  full  import !  How  will  they  encour- 
age us  to  ask  and  expect  great  things,  notwithstanding  our 
inexpressible  unworthiness  !  Never  before  did  the  scheme  of 
redemption,  and  the  great  mystery  of  God  manifest  in  the 
liesh,  appear  so  great  and  glorious.  While  meditating  upon  it, 
I  was  wonderfully  struck  with  a  reason  which  never  occurred 
to  me  before,  why  God  permitted  Adam  to  fall.  Had  he  stood, 
all  his  posterity  would  have  been  happy.  He  would,  therefore, 
in  one  sense,  have  been  their  Saviour  ;  and  while  they  were 
enjoying  the  happiness  of  heaven,  they  would  have  exclaimed, 
"  For  all  this  we  are  indebted  to  our  first  parent."  This 
would  have  been  too  great  an  honor  for  any  finite  being.  It 
would  have  tempted  Adam  to  pride,  and  us  to  idolatry.  The 
honor,  therefore,  was  reserved  for  God's  own  Son,  the  second 
Adam. — But  perhaps  this  has  occurred  to  you  before  ;  so  I  will 
not  enlarge. 

'^  Mr.  R.  is  still  in  miserable  health.  He  will  take  a  journey 
in  the  spring.  If  that  does  not  help  him,  w^e  shall  think  him 
irrecoverable.     I  fear  he  is  too  good  to  stay  long  on  earth. 


"  You  must  not,  certainly,  my  dear  mother,  say  one  word, 
which  even  looks  like  an  intimation  that  you  think  me  advanc- 
ing in  grace.  I  cannot  bear  it.  Every  body  here,  whether 
friends  or  enemies,  are  conspiring  to  ruin  me.  Satan  and  my 
own  heart,  of  course,  will  lend  a  hand ;  and  if  you  join  too,  I 
fear  all  the  cold  water,  which  Christ  can  throw  upon  my  pride, 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  175 

will  not  prevent  it  from  breaking  out  into  a  destructive  flame. 
As  certainly  as  any  body  flatters  and  caresses  me,  my  Father 
has  to  whip  me  for  it ;  and  an  unspeakable  mercy  it  is,  that  he 
condescends  to  do  it.  I  can,  it  is  true,  easily  muster  a  hun- 
dred good  reasons  why  I  should  not  be  proud  ;  but  pride  won't 
mind  reason,  nor  any  thing  else  but  a  good  drubbing.  Even  at 
this  moment,  I  feel  it  tingling  in  my  fingers'  ends,  and  seeking 
to  guide  my  pen." 

"  April  4.  Spent  the  forenoon  in  writing.  In  the  after- 
noon, attended  the  inquiry  meeting,  and  was  refreshed  by  see- 
ing a  number  of  new  inquirers.  The  Spirit  of  God  seemed  to 
be  present.  In  the  evening,  attended  another,  and  found  one 
who  had  obtained  comfort.  Came  home  exceedingly  fatigued, 
but  rejoicing  in  God. 

"  Aprils.  Had  some  sense  of  my  own  weakness,  and  some 
longing  desires  that  God  would  meet  with  us.  Had  a  most 
solemn,  joyful,  and  refreshing  season,  and  trust  it  was  highly 
profitable  to  the  church,  but  was  myself  exceedingly  overcome. 

"  April  6.  Was  exceedingly  happy  all  day.  Enjoyed  the 
peace  of  God,  which  passeth  understanding. 

"  April  8.  Miserably  weak,  both  in  body  and  mind,  and 
exceedingly  wretched  most  of  the  day.  The  light  of  my  soul 
was  withdrawn  from  me.  O,  what  a  miserable  wretch  am  I, 
when  Christ  is  absent !  It  is,  however,  necessary  that  he  should 
sometimes  withdraw ;  and  I  was  enabled  to  realize  that  it  was 
love,  which  induced  him  to  hide  his  face,  and  I  submitted  to  it 
without  one  murmuring  thought." 

On  the  eighth  of  May,  Mr.  Payson  was  married  to  Ann 
Louisa  Shipman,  of  New  Haven,  Connecticut, — a  woman  of 
kindred  piety,  and  whose  energy  and  firmness  of  character, 
connected  with  other  estimable  accomplishments,  proved  his 
best  earthly  support,  and  an  abiding  check  upon  his  constitu- 
tional tendency  to  depression.  Female  affection  and  ingenui- 
ty could  not  have  been  better  directed,  or  more  signally  honor- 
ed and  rewarded.  In  the  acquisition  of  such  a  "  help-meet," 
he  justly  considered  himself  as  *  having  obtained  favor  of  the 
Lord.' 

It  has  been  alleged,  perhaps  without  sumcient  reason,  that 
ministers,  as  a  class,  are  chargeable,  beyond  others,  with  fail- 
ures in  what  relates  to  this  most  delicate  and  important  con- 
nexion. The  truth  is,  their  errors  of  this  kind  attract  more 
notice,  and  are  more  injurious.  But  the  fact,  that  the  peace 
and  welflire  of  so  many,  as  well  as  his  own  usefulness,  are  ma- 


176  MEMOIR  OF 

terially  affected  by  the  character  of  a  pastor's  wife,  deserves 
the  consideration  of  all  who  are  still  in  a  situation  to  profit  by 
it.  A  chapter  might  be  compiled  from  Mr.  Payson's  letters, 
which  would  be  of  great  use  to  the  clerical  candidate  for  wed- 
lock, who  was  anxious  to  know  the  best  method  of  conducting 
the  preliminary  intercourse ;  but  the  favored  object  of  his  con- 
jugal attachment  still  survives,  and  her  right  to  the  early  avow- 
als and  precious  testimonials  of  his  faithful  love  is  sole  and 
exclusive.  Still,  an  instructive  exhibition  of  his  views  and  of 
his  practice  may  be  made,  without  any  indelicate  infringement 
of  this  right. 

He  wholly  avoided  those  "  entangling  alliances,"  in  early 
youth,  which  have  doomed  many  a  man,  either  to  take  to  his 
bosom  one,  whom,  though  once  his  equal,  he  had  so  far  out- 
stripped in  the  career  of  mental  improvement,  as  to  produce  a 
most  mortifying  disparity,  and  preclude  the  hope  of  ever  find- 
ing in  his  wife  a  companion  fitted  for  rational  intercourse ; — 
or  else,  to  desert  the  confiding  female,  whose  affections  he  had 
gained, — an  alternative,  too  base  for  an  honorable-minded  man 
to  adopt.  Mr.  Payson's  circumspection  is  the  more  remarkable, 
when  his  ardent  temperament  is  considered ;  and  yet,  as  early 
as  1805,  the  following  sober  views  are  expressed  in  a  letter  to 
his  sister  : — 

"  When  I  was  at  home,  I  thought  you  appeared  rather  ap- 
prehensive, that  I  should  form  some  connexion,  which,  to  say 
the  least,  would  be  no  help  to  my  religious  pursuits.  But  you 
may  lay  aside  this  fear.  I  have  seen  so  much  of  my  own 
proneness  to  turn  aside,  that  it  is,  and  I  hope  ever  will  be,  my 
resolution,  not  to  fetter  myself  with  any  voluntary  inducements 
to  stray.  Besides,  I  think  no  precept  in  the  Bible  is  plainer 
than  that  which  forbids  us  to  yoke  together  with  unbelievers. 
However,  I  think  it  probable  enough,  that  this  resolution  may 
be  the  occasion  of  my  dying  a  bachelor ;  but  I  am  not  at  all 
anxious  about  it." 

When  his  purpose  was  fixed  to  live  no  longer  *^  a  bachelor," 
the  course  which  he  pursued  revealed  the  source  from  which 
he  always  took  his  lessons.  It  was  as  closely  conformed  to 
scriptural  example  as  that  of  any  modern  suitor, — having  little 
more  of  formality  than  that  of  the  patriarchs  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. Still,  he  did  not  court  in  sackcloth,  as  is  evident  from  a 
note,  written  on  returning  from  his  first  visit,  and  addressed  to  his 
mother,  whom,  like  a  dutiful  son,  he  had  previously  consulted : 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  177 

''  Exeter,  Wed,  Eve. 
"  My  dearest  Mother, 

"  As  I  know  the  deep  interest  you  take  in  every  thing  which 
concerns  your  son,  I  will  go  no  farther,  before  I  inform  you  of 
the  result  of  the  business  on  which  we  conversed,  while  I  was 
at  home.  I  cannot,  indeed,  go  into  particulars ;  but  it  may  be 
some  gratification  to  you  to  know,  that  the  business  is  conclud- 
ed on,  and  nothing  remains  but  to  fix  the  wedding  day.  On 
this  point  alone  we  differed.     *     *     * 

"  And  now,  my  dearest  mother,  you  must  permit  me  to  exult 
over  you  a  little.  When  I  used  to  talk  of  getting  a  wife  with- 
out losing  any  time  about  it,  you  laughed  at  the  idea,  and 
thought  it  preposterous,  impracticable,  and  absurd.  But  you 
see,  that,  without  going  a  mile  purposely  out  of  my  way,  or 
losing  a  single  hour,  I  have  found  and  courted,  or  rather  Prov- 
idence has  found  for  me,  a  person,  who  bids  fairer  to  render 
me  happy  than  any  other  woman  I  have  seen.  It  is  true, 
many  things  may  yet  intervene  to  prevent  the  contemplated 
connexion  ;  but,  humanly  speaking,  it  will  take  place.  And 
if  it  does  not,  I  trust  that  I  shall  be  resigned,  and  feel  satisfied 
that  it  is  for  the  best.  *  *  *  At  present,  God  seems  to 
have  made  my  way  prosperous ;  and  I  am  more  than  ever  per- 
suaded, that  the  best  way  to  succeed  in  any  of  our  temporal 
concerns,  is  to  cast  them  upon  him — have  nothing  to  do  with 
them — and  devote  ourselves  entirely  to  the  advancement  of  his 
cause.  True,  he  only  can  excite  us  to  adopt  this  course  ;  but 
when  he  does,  it  is  an  almost  infallible  symptom  of  success." 

His  mother  must  have  held  a  pen  of  rare  and  various  pow- 
ers— as  piquant  in  satire  as  it  was  judicious  in  counsel,  and 
soothing  in  consolation.  She  might  have  thought  him  affect- 
edly singular  in  his  notions  of  matrimony,  and  directed  her 
strokes  accordingly.  At  any  rate,  he  is  seen  smarting  under 
her  castigation,  in  the  following  letter,  which,  by  the  way,  is  a 
very  serious  one,  and  discloses  a  heart  alive  to  the  danger  of 
being  diverted,  by  creature  attachments,  from  the  Lord  of  his 
affections  : — 

"  I  am  sorry  you  are  never  pleased  with  me,  when  I 

write  on  a  certain  subject.  I  fear  this  letter  will  appear  as 
little  pleasing  as  any  of  its  predecessors.     Since  I  wrote  last,  I 

have  made  another  visit  to  A ,     Circumstances,  which  I 

could  not  foresee,  rendered  it  indispensably  necessary.  I  took 
care  not  to  be  absent  either  on  a  Sabbath  or  lecture  day ;  yet 
I  felt  very  guilty  in  appropriating  so  much  of  my  Master's  time 


178  MEMOIR  OF 

to  my  own  use.  A  voice  seemed  continually  sounding  in  my 
ears — "  What  dost  thou  here,  Elijah  ?"  Had  it  not  been  for 
this,  I  verily  believe  Louisa  and  I  should  have  taken  a  trip  to 
Rindge.  =*  *  *  But  the  idea  of  forming  new  ties  to  bind 
myself  to  the  world,  is  dreadful.  I  thought,  at  the  time,  that  I 
sincerely  sought  divine  direction  ;  but  I  have  since  been  afraid 
that  I  did  not.  However,  I  know  that  the  Lord  reigns,  and  that 
he  will  take  care  of  his  glory  ;  and  this  is  enough  for  me.  As  to 
my  happiness  here,  it  is  nothing.  I  neither  expect  any  happi- 
ness, nor  wish  for  any,  separate  from  that  which  arises  from 
serving  and  enjoying  God.  It  is  but  a  day,  an  hour,  a  mo- 
ment, and  all  will  be  over. 

"  But,  my  dearest  Mother,  how  could  you  write  as  you 

did  respecting  the  views  and  feelings  which  my  letter  express- 
ed ?  It  was  cruel  to  banter  me  so ;  at  least,  if  any  other  per- 
son, of  as  long  standing  in  religion  as  you,  had  written  in  such 
a  manner,  I  should  have  been  sure  she  was  bantering  me,  and 
ridiculing  my  weakness.  I  shall  be  afraid  to  express  my  feel- 
ings again ;  and,  indeed,  I  did  not  intend  to  do  it  then,  but 
they  ran  away  with  me  before  I  was  aware.  You  talk  of  my 
heights  and  depths — Yes,  I  am  deep,  indeed,  in  guilt,  and  my 
iniquities  are  high  as  the  heavens.  These  are  all  the  heights 
and  depths  of  which  I  know  any  thing.  Compared  with  old 
Christians,  I  am  but  a  babe  of  yesterday ;  and  joys,  which  to 
them  would  appear  things  of  course,  are  sufficient  to  make  my 
weak  head  run  round.  It  was  for  this  reason  I  thought  my 
letter  must  appear  a  foolish  rhapsody.  But  I  will  not  say 
another  word  on  the  subject,  lest  you  should  suppose  I  am 
aping  humility." 

The  considerations  by  which  he  defended  himself  against 
the  fear  of  possible  disappointment,  which  some  communica- 
tion of  his  cautious  parent  was  adapted  to  excite,  are  striking 
and  full  of  interest.  To  estimate  aright  his  indifference,  as  to 
the  developements  of  the  future,  it  should  be  remembered  that 
the  negotiation  had  already  proceeded  too  far  to  render  an 
honorable  retreat  optional  with  him.  The  pledge  "  for  better 
or  for  worse,"  had  been  virtually  interchanged  ;  and  the  result, 
whether  fruition  or  disappointment,  he  was  determined  should 
subserve  his  spiritual  welfare  : — 

^*My  dearest  Mother, 

"  I  am  very  sorry  you  think  me  so  heterodox  in  my  no- 
tions respecting  matrimony  ;  but  I  cannot  alter  them.  *  *  * 
Have  I  not  the  best  possible  security,  that  all  things  shall  work 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  179 

together  for  my  good.  I  shall  certainly  have  a  good  wife,  and 
be  very  happy  with  her,  if  God  sees  best ;  but  if  he  sees  a  bad 
wife  is  a  necessary  trial  for  me,  who  am  I,  that  I  should  ob- 
ject 1  I  should  certainly  feel  very  easy  about  my  present  wel- 
fare, did  it  depend  entirely  on  your  good  wishes  to  render  me 
happy.  How  much  more  reason,  then,  have  I  to  be  easy, 
since  it  depends  on  my  Father  and  Saviour  !  If  I  wanted  just 
such  a  world  as  this,  for  my  own  private  accommodation,  me- 
thinks  I  could  go  and  ask  it  of  my  Saviour,  just  as  freely  as  I 
would  ask  him  for  a  straw.  He,  who  refused  not  his  ov/n 
blood,  surely  would  not  refuse  me  such  a  trifle  as  a  world, 
which  he  could  make  with  a  word,  if  he  savi^  that  it  was  really 
necessary  to  my  happiness.  Why,  then,  should  I  feel  the  least 
possible  anxiety  about  a  wife  1  or  waste  my  Master's  time  in 
seeking  one  ?" 

A  few  short  extracts  will  be  sufficient  to  show  the  nature 
and  manner  of  his  intercourse  with  the  friend  to  whom  he 
was  affianced  : — 


"  After  all,  we  shall  be  just  as  much  to  each  other  as 

our  Maker  pleases.  He  can,  and  I  trust  will,  render  us  as  hap- 
py as  it  is  best  we  should  be  in  this  life,  and  make  us  a  blessing 
to  each  other.  With  his  permission,  I  purpose  to  observe  Fri- 
day, Dec.  7th,  as  a  day  of  prayer  for  his  blessing  upon  our 
union,  should  he  permit  it  to  take  place.  I  trust  your  prayers 
will  ascend  with  mine. 

^^         #  *         # 

'^  I  was  delighted  with  what  you  wrote  respecting  our  pre- 
cious and  adorable  Saviour.  You  cannot  find  a  quicker  and 
surer  way  to  my  heart,  than  by  praising  and  loving  him. 
*  *  *  He  is  worthy,  he  is  precious  indeed.  To  the  power, 
the  majesty,  the  glory  of  God,  he  unites  the  gentleness,  the 
tenderness,  the  sympathy  of  a  friend  and  brother.  This  is 
just  such  a  Saviour  as  we  need. 

*         #         ^  # 

"  I  arrived,  last  evening,  much  fatigued.  My  journey, 
though  quickly  performed,  was  not  unattended  with  danger. 
Owing  to  the  weakness  of  the  harness,  or  the  carelessness  of 
the  driver,  the  horses  ran  away  with  us  no  less  than  three 
times,  and  were  stopped  only  for  want  of  power  to  proceed. 
For  some  minutes,  we  expected,  every  instant,  to  be  dashed  in 
pieces,  and  my  fellow  passengers  were  not  a  little  frightened  ; 
but  I  knew  that  my  heavenly  Father  held  the  reins,  and  felt 
unusually  happy. 


180  MEMOIR  OF 

"It  is  a  sufficient  answer  to  your  admonitions  re- 
specting my  health,  to  say,  that  it  has  rather  improved  than 
otherwise  the  year  past ;  and  shall  I,  then,  distrust  the  power 
and  goodness  of  God,  and  endeavor,  by  diminishing  my  la- 
bors, to  lay  up  a  stock  of  health  for  a  future  period,  which, 
after  all,  I  may  never  live  to  see  ? 

#  *         *  * 

"  I  have  suffered  every  conceivable  kind  of  spiritual  distress 
myself,  and  have  seen  too  much  of  the  good  effects  of  it  to  be 
much  grieved  when  I  see  others  suffering  the  same.  I  know 
that  Christ  is  with  them  in  the  furnace,  and  will  bring  them 
forth  as  gold ;  and,  therefore,  though  I  sympathize  with  them, 

I  am  rather  pleased  than  sorry  to  see  them  distressed 

I  have  long  considered  a  growing  acquaintance  with  the 
desperate  wickedness  and  surpassing  deceitful ness  of  the 
heart,  as  almost  the  only  mark  of  a  real  Christian,  which  Sa- 
tan cannot  counterfeit." 

From  a  union,  formed  on  such  principles,  the  happiest  re- 
sults were  to  be  expected.  That  gracious  Being,  whose  bless- 
ing they  had  supplicated,  more  than  answered  their  requests. 
On  taking  possession  of  the  habitation  prepared  for  their  re- 
ception, they  entered  on  their  new  condition  a^j^  separate 
family,  with  special  acknowledgments  of  God.  "  Inlthe  even- 
ing," says  the  diary,  "  had  a  meeting  by  way  of  dedicating  our 
house.  It  was  a  very  solemn,  melting  season.  Afterwards,  was 
greatly  favored  in  secret  prayer.  Knew  not  how  to  give  over 
praying,  the  employment  was  so  sweet.  Could  scarcely  ask 
any  thing  for  myself,  but  only  that  God  might  be  glorifiedv" — 
He  lost  no  time  in  making  his  mother  a  partaker  of  his  joy  : — 

^'My  dearest  MOTHER; 

"  I  must  tell  you  how  happy  I  am ;  happy,  not  because  1 
have  one  of  the  best  of  wives  ;  not  because  I  live  in  the  midst 
of  a  grateful  and  affectionate  people  ;  not  because  I  am  sur- 
rounded by  an  abundance  of  the  good  things  of  this  life ;  but 
because  I  enjoy  God  in  all  these  things. 

"  We  went  to  house-keeping  yesterday.  I  felt,  in  some 
measure,  as  I  wished  to  feel  on  such  an  occasion.  It  was  a 
blessed  evening,  and  this  has  been  a  blessed  morning. — My 
dearest  mother,  I  must  let  my  heart  have  vent. — All  my  days, 
I  have  grieved,  provoked,  and  dishonored  God,  and  he  has 
done  nothing  but  heap  favors,  and  pardons,  and  honors  upon 
me.  O,  it  affects  me,  to  think  of  his  goodness.  O  that  all 
the  world  knew  how  vile  I  have  been,  and  how  good  he  has 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  181 

been  in  return.  Could  Christians  know  his  dealings  with 
such  a  wretch,  they  would  surely  never,  never  distrust  him 
again.  And  yet  I,  who  do  know  it,  shall  distrust  him  again. 
I  shall  again  grieve  and  provoke  him,  as  in  times  past,  and, 
perhaps,  be  left  to  bring  a  reproach  upon  religion.  I  never 
felt  myself  to  be  so  much  in  danger  as  at  this  moment.  I  am 
happy  in  my  own  soul — happy  in  my  external  circumstances  ; 
but  I  rejoice  with  trembling.  I  dare  not  resolve  that  I  will 
not  suffer  myself  to  be  led  away  or  lifted  up.  I  dare  not  say, 
that,  by  to-morrow,  I  shall  not  feel  stupid  and  ungrateful  as  a 
block ;  or  even  full  of  rage  and  enmity  as  a  devil.  But  I  nev- 
er felt  more  able  to  hang  upon  Christ,  and  trust  him  to  keep 
me  up.  He  knows,  I  trust,  it  is  my  earnest  desire  to  be  strip- 
ped of  all  my  blessings,  and  left  utterly  destitute,  rather  than 
be  drawn  by  them  away  from  him. 

^*  My  people  have  been  wonderfully  kind.  As  soon  as  we 
got  into  our  house,  they  sent  us  two  cart-loads  of  provisions, 
&/C.  &/C.,  including  every  article,  however  trifling,  which  could 
be  wanted  in  a  family.  This  was  kind  in  them,  but  still  more 
kind  in  my  heavenly  Father.  O,  may  I  never  forget,  that, 
whoever  may  be  the  stream.  He  is  the  Fountain. 

"And  now,  my  dearest  mother,  what  more  shall  I  say? 
You  have  nothing  to  wish  for,  nothing  to  pray  for,  as  it  re- 
spects your  happy  son,  but  that  he  may  not  be  rendered  sloth- 
ful, or  vain,  or  proud,  by  prosperity ;  that  his  love  and  zeal  for 
his  divine  Master  may  increase  with  his  mercies,  and  that  he 
may  be  prepared  for  a  day  of  adversity  ;  for  such  a  day  must 
come.  Well,  let  it  come,  if  God  so  pleases.  Welcome  any 
thing  that  he  sees  fit  to  send. 

"  Notwithstanding  your  fears,  I  do  not  yet  love  my  parents 
one  whit  less  than  before.  It  almost  doubles  my  happiness  to 
think  of  their  sharing  it." 

On  his  birth-day,  next  following  this  event,  he  writes : — 
"  The  past  year  has  been  one  of  the  most  important  of  my  life. 
I  have  seen  much,  very  much  of  the  goodness  of  God,  and  of 
my  own  vileness.  I  have  formed  a  connexion  which  will 
have  an  influence  lasting  as  eternity,  and  I  have  reason  to 
hope  that  the  divine  blessing  has  attended  it." 

Two  letters  will  here  be  introduced,  whose  dates  would  as- 
sign them  a  later  place,  but  which  are  connected  with  the 
paragraphs  just  quoted,  by  the  domestic  nature  of  their  con- 
tents. The  second  is  from  his  mother,  congratulating  him 
upon  the  birth  of  his  first-born,  and  must  supply  the  place  of 


182  MEMOIR  OF 

his  own  reflections  on  that  event ;  for  at  that  time  his  diary  is 
silent,  and  the  letter  which  bore  the  tidings  to  his  parents  has 
not  been  preserved. 

''  Portland,  Jan.  20,  1812. 
''  My  dearest  Mother, 

"  Were  you  with  us  to-day,  you  would  see  a  strange  mix- 
ture of  joy  and  grief  among  us.  Your  letter  to  Grata,  espe- 
cially that  part  of  it  which  relates  to  my  brothers,  gave  us  as 
much  joy  as  we  can  ever  expect  to  feel,  in  one  day,  while  inhab- 
itants of  this  changing  world.  It  made  our  hearts  leap  within 
us  to  hear  of  poor  Eben,  or  rather  rich  Eben,  as  I  hope  we 
may  now  call  him.  But — there  must  always  be  a  hut,  till  we 
get  to  heaven — the  same  mail,  that  brought  this  welcome  in- 
telligence, brought  a  letter  from  New  Haven,  informing  us  of 
the  death  of  Louisa's  brother  Henry.  She  is,  of  course,  in 
great  affliction,  for  she  had  little  if  any  evidence  that  he  was 
prepared  for  this  event.  I  begin  now  to  find,  for  the  first 
time,  that,  by  doubling  myself,  I  have  doubled  my  sorrows,  and 
rendered  myself  a  broader  mark  for  the  arrows  of  misfortune. 
However,  I  am  content  to  meet  with  a  few  deductions  from 
the  happiness  which  wedlock  affords.  I  should  otherwise  be 
almost  too  happy  for  my  spiritual  welfare.  I  am  fully  of  your 
opinion,  that  marriage  is  a  wonderfully  wise  and  gracious  in- 
stitution, and  shows,  in  a  striking  point  of  light,  the  goodness 
of  our  heavenly  Father.  I  am  also  convinced,  that,  when 
properly  managed,  it  is  no  less  favorable  to  religion.  You 
will  think  that  I  write  like  a  new^-married  man;  and  will, 
probably  enough,  conclude  that,  in  a  few  years,  I  shall  feel 
differently.  It  is  very  possible  that  I  may ;  but  hitherto  my 
happiness  has  been  continually  increasing.  We  are  much 
more  attached  to  each  other  than  we  were  at  first,  and  daily 
see  new  cause  to  admire  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  him 
who  fitted  us  for  each  other,  and  brought  us  together.  I  have, . 
I  may  almost  say,  more  temporal  mercies  than  I  wish  for,  and 
they  are  continually  increasing ;  they  come  without  asking ; 
but  neither  by  asking,  nor  in  any  other  way,  am  I  equally  con- 
scious of  obtaining  those  spiritual  blessings,  which  I  wish  for, 
and  which  seem  indispensably  necessary.  However,  I  do  not 
flatter  myself  that  my  present  happiness  will  continue  long. 
Perhaps  a  few  weeks  will  deprive  me  of  her,  whose  society 
constitutes  so  large  a  share  of  it.  God's  will  be  done.  I  trust 
that  he  has,  in  some  measure,  prepared  me  for  such  an  event. 
I  have  viewed  it  in  every  possible  point  of  light ;  and,  so  far 
as  I  can  judge,  feel  willing,  yes,  blessed  be  his  name !  perfect- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  X83 

ly  willing,  that  he  should  do  what  he  will  with  his  own.  *  *  * 
We  shall  have  your  prayers,  I  doubt  not.  O  how  much  am  I 
already  indebted  to  them  1 

"  I  cannot  close,  without  adverting  again  to  the  blessed 
change  you  mention  in  our  family.  Give  my  love  to  E. 
Charge  H.  and  P.  to  strive  as  well  as  seek  ;  to  repent  and 
pray — and  not  to  pray  first,  in  order  to  repent  afterwards. 
And  urge  Eliza  to  follow  the  example  of  her  brothers,  and  re- 
member her  Creator  in  the  days  of  her  youth." 

"  March  27,  1812. 
"  My  ever  dear  Son. 

**  Your  last  was,  indeed,  fraught  with  precious  tidings  ; — 
and  we  are  now  to  view  you  and  your  dear  Louisa,  as  sustain- 
ing a  new,  and  very  important  relation  in  life.  May  gracious 
Heaven  look  with  benignity  upon  this  dear  object  of  your  mu- 
tual affections,  and  realize  your  best  wishes  in  its  behalf 
Precious  babe  !  already  do  I  clasp  it  in  my  affections,  and  im- 
plore the  blessing  of  Heaven  upon  it.  Great  is  the  fatigue,  the 
care,  the  anxiety,  of  rearing  a  family ;  but  if  it  is  performed 
aright,  it  is  a  blessed  work. — You  have  yet  to  learn  how  diffi- 
cult the  task,  and  how  much  patience,  prudence,  and  grace, 
is  requisite  to  qualify  us  to  be  faithful  to  the  sacred  trust  de- 
posited in  our  keeping.  Yet,  for  your  encouragement,  and  as 
a  debt  of  gratitude  due  to  our  most  gracious  Parent,  I  freely 
acknowledge  myself  amply  compensated  for  all  I  have  ever 
suffered  or  done  for  my  Edward.  Alas  !  I  have  been  exceed- 
ingly deficient  in  my  duty  to  my  children ;  but  with  what  in- 
effable goodness  has  God  pardoned  my  unfaithfulness,  and  no- 
ticed every  sincere  attempt  to  discharge,  in  any  measure,  the 
important  duties  of  a  mother,  and,  in  some  instances,  done 
more  for  them  than  I  ever  thought  or  asked.  May  He  ena- 
ble you  to  receive  this  little  one  from  his  gracious  hands,  and, 
as  he  requires,  bring  it  up  for  him.  You  were  very  kind  to 
write  me  so  soon ;  it  was  a  proof  of  affection,  for  which  my 
heart  thanks  you — but  we  are  looking  impatiently  for  another 
letter. 

"  Your  good  father*  put  on  one  of  his  best  smiles,  upon 

*  The  father  of  Mr.  Payson,  though  he  appears  less  prominent  in  this  Me- 
moir than  his  mother,  was,  nevertheless,  deservedly  ranked  among  the  first 
men  in  New  Hampshire.  Indeed,  he  stood  high  in  the  confidence  of  the  relig- 
ious public  throughout  New  England  ;  and  his  counsel  and  active  exertions  were 
much  employed  m  promoting  the  general  interests  of  literature  and  religion. 
In  furtherance  of  these,  he  made  several  long  journeys  on  horseback  5  once  or 
twice  as  far  as  Philadelphia,  on  business  for  Dartmouth  College,  of  which  he 
was  one  of  the  Trustees.     He  was  also  a  member  of  the  American  Board  of 


184  MEMOIR  OF 

hearing  he  was  a  grandfather.  *^  Ah  !"  he  says,  ^'what  is  it? 
a  son,  or  a  daughter  ?"  with  other  inquiries.  He  smiled 
when  he  read — "babe  made  the  house  ring;"  and  observed, 
you  would  not  want  for  music  of  that  kind,  he  supposed.  He 
is  in  very  good  health,  and  now  attending  a  conference  in  a 
remote  part  of  the  town.  *  *  *  * 

"  May  you  be  guided  safely  amidst  the  innumerable  snares 
which  await  our  every  step,  and  your  path,  like  the  rising  light, 
shine  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day.     Thus  prays 

"Your  affectionate  Mother." 

In  December,  1811,  the  sole  care  of  the  church  and  parish 
devolved  on  him,  in  consequence  of  the  dissolution  of  the  sen- 
ior pastor's  relation  to  the  church,  agreeably  to  the  advice  of 
council  mutually  called. 

An  event  of  this  kind  is  usually  of  all-absorbing  interest  to 
a  people,  and  seldom  fails  to  divert  attention  from  the  impor- 
tant concern  of  personal  religion.  But  such  does  not  appear 
to  have  been  the  effect,  in  the  present  case,  to  any  very  lam- 
entable extent — the  accession  to  the  church,  this  year,  being 
thirty-nine,  and,  the  subsequent  year,  considerably  greater  than 
any  preceding.  He  closed  the  labors  of  this  year  with  a 
most  seasonable  discourse  from  2  Cor.  iv.  13,  We  also  believe , 
and  therefo7^e  speak;  in  which  he  attempted  to  state  the  prin- 
cipal doctrines  which  Paul  professed  to  believe — to  show  that 
he  did  actually  believe  them — that  he  had  sufficient  reasons  to 
believe  them — and  that  this  belief  necessarily  led  him  to  preach 
and  conduct  in  the  manner  he  did.  The  sermon  is  a  happy 
exemplification  of  ministerial  address  and  of  ministerial  faith- 
fulness. He  could  not  have  taken  a  more  unexceptionable 
method  of  presenting  his  own  views,  than  by  exhibiting  what 
Paul  believed  and  taught ;  nor  more  completely  have  justified 
the  earnestness  with  which  he  pressed  them  upon  his  hearers, 
than  by  bringing  into  view  the  momentous  interests  which  they 
involve.  To  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  epistles  of  Paul, 
it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  that  his  sketch  asserts  the  fall  of 
man,  and  the  consequent  universal  depravity  of  the  human 
race ;  and  the  other  doctrines,  peculiar  to  the  Christian  system, 
which  necessarily  result  from  this,  respecting  the  personal 

Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions,  as  was  his  son  after  him.  His  various 
pubhc  engagements,  in  addition  to  his  pastoral  duties,  so  engrossed  his  time, 
that  the  family  correspondence  devolved  almost  entirely  on  Mrs.  Payson,  who 
held  "  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer."  It  was  unavoidable,  therefore,  that  in  a 
memoir,  made  up  in  part  of  epistolary  correspondence,  the  mother  should  oc- 
cupy the  more  conspicuous  place. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  185 

glories  and  mediatorial  offices  of  Christ,  and  the  way  of  a  sin- 
ner's justification  and  acceptance  with  God.  It  was  a  popular 
and  useful  defence  of  evangelical  doctrines,  and  of  ministerial 
zeal,  and  was  applied  to  the  auditory  with  pungent  force. 

His  diary,  during  this  year,  authorizes  some  inferences  be- 
sides that  of  his  spirituality  and  devotion  to  his  work.  A  few 
short  extracts  of  each  kind  will  form  an  appropriate  conclusion 
to  the  chapter  : — 

''July  17,  Heard  much,  to-day,  of  the  rage  of  opposers ; 
found  others  much  discouraged  by  it.  Was  driven  by  it  to  the 
throne  of  grace,  and  there  found  unusual  enlargement  in  plead- 
ing for  the  effusion  of  the  Spirit.  Never  felt  more  drawn  out 
in  prayer  for  this,  and  could  not  help  hoping  that  he  would  es- 
pouse our  cause.  Was  deeply  affected  with  the  sovereign 
goodness  of  God. 

''Aug.  O,  what  a  privilege  it  would  be  to  have  strength 
to  labor  all  the  time  for  God ! 

"  Sept.  24,  25.  Was  called  up  at  midnight  by  some  mis- 
chievous person,  and  sent  off  to  see  a  person  said  to  be  dying. 
.  .  .  Found  it  a  serious  joke  to  me,  for  I  took  cold,  and  was 
sick  several  days. 

"  Sept.  29.  Had  a  most  refreshing  season,  this  morning,  in 
prayer.  Felt  most  intense  hatred  of  sin,  and  desired  to  be  free 
from  its  power. 

*'  Oct.  5.  Have  been  abundantly  convinced,  to-day,  that  it 
is  not  a  vain  thing  to  call  upon  God.  Was  remarkably  assist- 
ed in  preparing  for  to-morrow.  In  the  evening,  was  favored 
with  an  uncommonly  precious  season  in  prayer.  O,  how  dif- 
ferent does  every  thing  appear,  when  God  is  present !  He  is 
indeed  all  in  all  to  me. 

"  Oct.  8.  Enjoyed  a  most  delightful  season  in  prayer.  Had 
such  strong  confidence  in  God,  from  a  view  of  his  willingness 
to  give,  that  I  felt  ready  to  ask  and  expect  every  thing  in  his 
power  to  bestow.  Knew  not  how  to  stop,  till  I  was  utterly  ex- 
hausted. 

"  Oct.  10.  Had  some  different  views  of  Christ  and  heaven 
from  any  I  ever  before  enjoyed,  so  that  I  felt  the  fullest  assur- 
ance of  salvation,  and  wished  to  be  saved,  that  I  might  praise 
and  love  God  perfectly. 

"  Oct.  22.     Was  enabled  to  cast  all  my  cares  on  the  Lord, 
and  felt  lightened.     Never  did  the  Bible  seem  so  sweet,  never 
did  the  light  of  God's  countenance  seem  so  exquisitely  precious 
as  now  ;  nor  did  I  ever  more  need  it. 
16* 


J  86  MEMOIR  OF 

*'  Oct.  24.  In  the  course  of  the  day,  saw  an  Indian.  Was 
instantly  struck,  and  much  affected  with  a  sense  of  his  wretch- 
ed condition.  Never  had  such  feelings  before.  In  the  even- 
ing, had  great  freedom  in  praying  for  poor  savages  and  others, 
who  are  destitute  of  the  light  of  the  gospel. 

^^  Nov.  7.  Felt  a  little  revived.  Set  up  a  little  prayer  meet- 
ing in  my  family,  for  a  revival,  and  had  some  liberty. 

"  Nov.  28.  Had  a  most  refreshing  and  delightful  season  in 
prayer  this  morning.  Felt  something  of  the  life  and  power  of 
religion  through  the  day.  In  the  evening,  preached, ....  and 
was  uncommonly  assisted,  and  the  people  appeared  much  af- 
fected. Felt  much  gratitude  to  God  for  his  assistance,  and 
much  encouraged  respecting  a  revival." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  187 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Forms  of  prayer — Thoughts  on  public  prayer — His  sincerity 
—  The  importance  of  this  quality  to  a  minister's  success, 

"  You  would  greatly  oblige  me  by  loaning  me  a  copy  of 
your  prayer  to-day,''  said  a  distinguished  lady  to  Dr.  Payson, 
as  he  was  retiring  from  the  house  of  worship  on  a  memorable 
occasion.  She  was  surprised  on  being  told  that  it  had  van- 
ished with  the  breath  which  gave  it  utterance.  This  lady  was 
not  an  attendant  on  his  ministry,  but  had  come,  at  this  time, 
with  the  expectation  of  seeing  La  Fayette  in  the  assembly, 
and,  in  common  with  many  others,  was  filled  with  admiration 
of  the  intercessory  part  of  the  exercises,  as  differing  from  all 
she  had  ever  heard,  in  richness  and  appropriateness  of  matter, 
as  well  as  in  fervor  of  utterance.  Few,  it  is  believed,  ever 
heard  him,  for  the  first  time,  even  in  the  family  or  on  the  most 
common  occasion,  without  experiencing  kindred  emotions. 
The  wonder,  too,  was  enhanced,  rather  than  diminished,  by 
every  repetition  of  the  exercise.  To  those  whose  devotions 
he  led  for  twenty  years,  in  the  sanctuary,  in  the  conference 
room,  by  the  sick  bed,  at  festivals,  and  funerals,  every  prayer 
seemed  to  have  all  the  freshness  of  originality.  His  resources 
for  this  duty  appeared  to  be  absolutely  inexhaustible.  There 
was  something  in  his  prayers  powerful  to  arrest  and  fix  atten- 
tion— something  which  seized  and  absorbed  the  faculties  of 
the  soul,  and  separated  it,  for  the  time  being,  at  least,  from  its 
connexions  with  "  this  present  evil  world."  The  full,  deep, 
reverent,  flexible,  suppliant  tones  of  his  voice,  as  far  removed 
from  the  cant  of  the  fanatic  as  they  were  from  the  levity  of 
the  witling,  contributed  something  to  the  effect  of  his  public 
devotions. 

The  question  has  been  asked,  by  more  than  one  distinguish- 
ed minister,  since  Dr.  Payson's  death,  whether  he  left  behind 
him  any  written  forms  of  prayer.  So  far  from  this,  it  is  be- 
lieved he  never  wrote  a  prayer.  There  are,  indeed,  inter- 
spersed throughout  his  private  writings  and  sermons,  numer- 
ous ejaculations  and  supplicatory  paragraphs  ;  but  nothing 
intended  exclusively  as  a  prayer.  His  "  Confession  and  Form 
of  Covenant,"  in  a  preceding  chapter,  bears  the  nearest  resem- 


188  MEMOIR  OF 

blance  to  a  prayer,  of  any  thing  which  has  been  discovered 
from  his  pen,  and  will  give  a-  better  idea  than  any  description, 
of  the  leading  impression  which  his  prayers  produced  on  the 
hearers,  namely,  the  infinite  disparity  which  exists  between 
God  and  the  creature,  at  the  same  time  that  it  brings  to  view 
numerous  particulars  in  which  this  contrast  may  be  seen. 
**  God  is  in  heaven,  and  we  upon  earth,"  was  the  great  truth 
which  stood  forth  with  distinguished  prominence  in  his  invo- 
cations, confessions,  pleadings,  intercessions,  and  ascriptions. 
"  God  is  in  this  place,"  was  a  truth  not  less  vividly  impressed 
on  the  minds  of  his  auditors  when  he  poured  out  his  soul  in 
prayer.  They  saw,  they  felt,  that  he  pleaded  with  a  present 
God.  His  prayers  conformed,  with  singular  felicity,  to  his 
own  definition  of  the  exercise,  which  makes  it  "  a  kind  of  de- 
vout poetry,  the  whole  subject  matter  of  which  is  furnished  by 
the  heart ;  and  the  understanding  is  only  allowed  to  shape 
and  arrange  the  effusions  of  the  heart  in  the  manner  best 
adapted  to  honor  the  Being  to  whom  prayer  is  addressed,  and 
to  excite  and  direct  the  devotional  feelings  of  his  worshippers." 
But  a  thousand  forms,  of  his  prayers  even,  could  never 
teach  another  to  pray  like  him.  He  neither  found  for  himself, 
nor  could  he  mark  out  for  others,  a  "royal  road"  to  the  throne 
of  grace  ;  and  the  "  gift  of  prayer,"  for  which  he  was  so  emi- 
nent, was  not  attained  without  corresponding  efforts  on  his 
part.  It  was  by  his  daily  retired  practice,  that  he  became  so 
skilful  and  prevailing  a  pleader  with  his  God.  There  can  be 
no  doubt  on  this  point.  His  journal,  through  several  succes- 
sive years,  records  repeated  seasons  of  prayer  for  almost  every 
day,  together  with  the  state  of  his  affections,  and  the  exercise 
or  want  of  those  graces  which  constitute  the  "  spirit  of  suppli- 
cation." It  requires  much  of  a  devotional  spirit  even  to  read  * 
these  perpetually  recurring  descriptions  of  his  '  wrestling  in 
prayer,'  of  his  *  near  access  to  the  mercy-seat,'  as  well  as  of 
those  difficulties  which  sometimes  barred  his  approach ;  for,  to 
an  undevout  mind,  they  would  present  nothing  but  a  weari- 
some, disgusting,  endless  monotony.  When  the  inventive  char- 
acter of  his  mind  is  considered,  its  exquisite  delight  in  every 
thing  that  was  original,  these  records  exhibit  the  most  infalli- 
ble evidence  of  his  love  for  devotion.  His  continuing  instant 
in  prayer,  be  his  circumstances  what  they  might,  is  the  most 
noticeable  fact  in  his  history,  and  points  out  the  duty  of  all 
who  would  rival  his  eminency.  There  is  no  magic  about  it. 
"  The  arrow  that  would  pierce  the  clouds  must  go  from  the 
nerved  arm  and  the  bent  bow."  But  if  prayer,  to  be  success- 
ful, must  be  ardent,  so  must  it  be  not  fitful,  but  habitual. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  189 

If,  however,  he  has  not  left  a  form,  he  has,  happily,  left 
some  thoughts  on  public  prayer,  which  will  be  of  greater  value, 
especially  to  ministers  of  the  gospel ;  and,  as  in  his  practice 
he  illustrated  his  own  instructions,  a  stranger  to  him  may  ob- 
tain from  them  a  better  knowledge  of  his  manner,  than  from 
any  description  of  it  by  another  hand. 

"  What  are  the  principal  excellences  which  should  be 
cultivated,  and  the  defects  which  should  be  avoided, 

BY    MINISTERS    OF    THE    GOSPEL,    IN     THE    PERFORMANCE    OF 
THEIR  PUBLIC  DEVOTIONAL  EXERCISES  ? 

"  The  excellence  of  any  nerformance  consists  in  its  being 
adapted  to  answer  the  end  for  which  it  is  designed.  So  far 
as  it  is  not  adapted  to  answer  that  end,  it  must  be  considered 
defective.  The  design  of  public  prayer,  considered  as  a  part 
of  ministerial  duty,  is  to  honor  the  Being  to  whom  it  is  ad- 
dressed, and  to  excite  and  direct  the  devotional  feelings  of  his 
worshippers.  These  two  objects,  though  distinct,  are  insepa- 
rably connected,  and  are  to  be  attained  by  the  same  means  ; 
for  it  will  ever  be  found,  that  that  mode  of  performing  the  duty 
of  public  prayer,  which  is  best  adapted  to  promote  the  honor 
of  God,  is  best  calculated  to  excite  and  direct  the  devotional 
feelings  of  the  hearers.  That  our  devotional  performances 
may  secure  the  attainment  of  these  united  objects,  they  must 
be  the  echo  of  a  fervently  pious  heart,  guided  by  a  judicious 
and  enlightened  mind,  to  the  voice  of  God,  as  uttered  in  his 
works  and  his  word.  An  expression  of  the  psalmist  will  illus- 
trate my  meaning : — '  When  thou  saidst.  Seek  ye  my  face,  my 
heart  said  unto  thee.  Thy  face.  Lord,  will  I  seek.'  In  a  simi- 
lar manner  should  our  public  addresses  to  God  be  the  echo  of 
his  language  to  us.  Our  adorations  and  ascriptions  of  praise 
should  thus  respond  to  what  he  has  revealed  of  his  natural 
and  moral  perfections  ;  our  confessions,  to  the  charges  which 
he  has  preferred  against  us,  and  to  the  punishments  with  which 
he  threatens  us  ;  our  petitions  and  intercessions,  to  his  com- 
mands, his  promises,  and  the  description  he  has  given  of  our 
own  wants,  and  those  of  our  fellow-creatures ;  and  our  thanks- 
givings, to  the  favors  which  he  has  bestowed  on  ourselves,  our 
countrymen,  and  our  race.  When  our  devotional  performan- 
ces thus  echo  back  the  voice  of  God,  we  cannot  fail  to  promote 
both  his  glory,  and  the  edification  of  our  people.  We  then 
follow  a  guide  which  cannot  mislead  us  ;  we  express  the  very 
feelings  which  his  language  to  us  is  designed  and  calculated 
to  excite  ;  we  set  our  seal  to  the  truth  of  his  declarations,  say 


190  MEMOIR  OF 

Amen  to  all  that  he  has  seen  fit  to  reveal  to  us,  and  teach  our 
hearers  to  do  the  same.  Thus,  while  we  avoid  the  too  com- 
mon fault  o{ preaching  in  prayer,  our  prayers  will  preach,  and 
prove  no  less  instructive  than  our  sermons.  We  shall,  at  the 
same  time,  excite  them  to  pray,  and  teach  them  how  to  pray. 
While  we  speak  as  the  mouth  of  our  people  to  God,  we  shall, 
in  an  indirect,  but  most  impressive  manner,  be  the  mouth  of 
God  to  our  people,  and  set  before  them  their  duty,  as  it  re- 
spects both  faith  and  practice,  in  a  way  least  calculated  to 
offend,  and  in  those  solemn  moments  when  the  exhibition  of 
truth  is  most  likely  to  affect  them. 

"  If  the  preceding  remarks  be  just,  it  will  be  easy  to  infer 
from  them  what  are  the  principal  faults  which  should  be  avoid- 
ed by  us  in  leading  the  devotions  of  our  hearers. 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  conceive  that  our  devotional  perform- 
ances are  too  often  the  language  of  the  understanding,  rather 
than  of  the  heart.  It  has  been  observed  that  they  should  be 
the  echo  of  a  fervently-pious  heart,  guided  by  an  enlightened 
understanding,  to  the  voice  of  God.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  un- 
candid  to  remark,  that  our  expressions,  in  public  prayer,  are 
not  always  guided  by  an  enlightened  understanding  ;  but  still 
less  frequently,  probably,  are  they  the  echo  of  a  fervently- 
pious  heart  to  the  voice  of  God.  They  too  often  consist,  al- 
most entirely,  of  passages  of  Scripture — not  always  judiciously 
chosen,  or  well  arranged — and  common-place  phrases,  which 
have  been  transmitted  down,  for  ages,  from  one  generation 
of  ministers  to  another,  selected  and  put  together  just  as  we 
would  compose  a  sermon  or  essay,  while  the  heart  is  allowed 
no  share  in  the  performance ;  so  that  we  may  more  properly 
be  said  to  make  a  prayer,  than  to  pray.  The  consequence  is, 
that  our  devotional  performances  are  too  often  cold  and  spirit- 
less :  as  the  heart  did  not  assist  in  composing,  it  disdains  to 
aid  in  uttering  them.  They  have  almost  as  much  of  a  form, 
as  if  we  made  use  of  a  liturgy  ;  while  the  peculiar  excellen- 
ces of  a  liturgy  are  wanting.  Our  hearers  soon  become  fa- 
miliarized to  our  expressions,  and  not  unfrequently  learn  to 
anticipate  them  ;  and,  though  they  may  possibly  be  instructed, 
their  devotional  feelings  are  not  excited. 

"  That  public  prayer  may  produce  its  proper  and  designed 
effects  upon  their  hearts,  it  should  be,  if  I  may  so  express  it, 
a  kind  of  devout  poetry.  As  in  poetry,  so  in  prayer,  the  whole 
subject  matter  should  be  furnished  by  the  heart ;  and  the  un- 
derstanding should  be  allowed  only  to  shape  and  arrange  the 
effusions  of  the  heart  in  the  manner  best  adapted  to  answer 
the  end  designed.     From  the  fulness  of  a  heart  overflowing 


EDWARD  FAYSON.  191 

with  holy  affections,  as  from  a  copious  fountain,  we  should 
pour  forth  a  torrent  of  pious,  humble,  and  ardently-affection- 
ate feelings  ;  while  our  understandings  only  shape  the  chan- 
nel, and  teach  the  gushing  streams  of  devotion  where  to  flow, 
and  when  to  stop.  In  such  a  prayer,  every  pious  heart  among 
our  hearers  will  join.  They  will  hear  a  voice  and  utterance 
given  to  their  own  feelings.  They  will  hear  their  own  desires 
and  emotions  expressed  more  fully  and  perspicuously  than  they 
could  express  them  themselves.  Their  hearts  will  spring  for- 
ward to  meet  and  unite  with  the  heart  of  the  speaker.  The 
well  of  water,  which  our  Saviour  assures  us  is  in  all  who  drink 
of  his  Spirit,  will  rise,  and  burst  its  way  through  the  rubbish 
of  worldly  cares  and  affections,  which  too  often  choke  it ;  and 
the  stream  of  devotion,  from  many  hearts,  will  unite,  and  flow 
on,  in  one  broad  tide,  to  the  throne  of  Jehovah ;  while,  with 
one  mind  and  one  mouth,  minister  and  people  glorify  God. 
Such  was  the  prayer  of  Ezra,  and  such  its  effects  : — *  And 
Ezra  blessed  the  Lord,  the  great  God.  And  all  the  people 
answered.  Amen,  amen,  with  lifting  up  of  their  hands  ;  and 
they  bowed  their  heads,  and  worshipped  the  Lord  with  their 
faces  toward  the  ground.' 

"  Leading  the  devotion  of  our  people  in  this  manner  will 
preserve  us  from  another  fault,  less  important,  indeed,  but  not 
less  common  than  that  which  has  just  been  mentioned,  and 
which,  in  part,  is  occasioned  by  it.  It  consists  in  uttering  the 
different  parts  of  prayer  in  the  same  tone.  When  our  prayers 
are  the  language  of  the  understanding  only,  this  will  always 
be  done  ;  but  not  so  when  they  flow  from  the  heart.  No  per- 
son need  be  informed,  that,  in  our  intercourse  with  each  other, 
a  different  modification  of  the  voice  is  employed  to  express 
every  different  emotion  of  the  heart.  No  one  would  expect 
to  hear  a  condemned  malefactor  plead  for  his  life,  and  return 
thanks  for  a  pardon,  in  the  same  tone.  And  why  is  it  not 
equally  unnatural  for  sinful  beings,  condemned  to  eternal 
death,  to  plead  for  pardon,  and  return  thanks  for  its  bestowal^ 
in  the  same  tone  1  Yet  how  often  is  this  done  !  How  often 
do  we  hear  prayers  flow  on,  from  the  commencement  to  the 
close,  in  the  same  uniform  tone,  with  scarcely  a  perceptible 
inflection  of  the  voice  !  Yet  no  two  things  can  differ  more 
widely  than  the  feelings  which  are  expressed  in  different  parts 
of  the  same  prayer.  Surely,  then,  a  corresponding  difference 
ought  to  be  perceived  in  the  modifications  of  the  voice.  In 
every  other  public  expression  of  our  feelings,  such  a  difference 
is  expected  and  required.  The  effect  of  the  most  eloquent 
composition  would  be  greatly  impaired,  not  to  say  wholly  de- 


192  MEMOIR  OF 

stroyfed,  by  a  delivery  perfectly  monotonous.  The  effects  of 
the  same  cause  upon  devotional  performances  will  be  similar. 
Where  no  fervency  of  feeling  is  indicated,  it  will  usually  be 
found  that  none  is  excited ;  and,  since  one  principal  design  of 
public  prayer  is  to  excite  the  devotional  feelings  of  the  hearers, 
it  is  evident  that  a  fault  which  so  powerfully  tends  to  defeat  this 
design  cannot  be  a  fault  of  trifling  consequence.  I  am,  howev- 
er, aware,  that  in  attempting  to  avoid  this  fault,  the  exercise  of 
great  care,  and  of  much  judgment  and  good  taste,  is  requisite 
to  preserve  us  from  an  affected  or  theatrical  manner,  which  is  a 
fault  much  more  to  be  deprecated.  Still,  I  conceive  that  when 
we  feel  as  we  ought,  we  shall  find  no  difficulty  or  danger  in  this 
respect.  Our  hearts  will  then,  without  any  effort  on  our  part, 
insensibly  teach  us  to  express  its  emotions  in  a  corresponding 
tone,  and  in  the  manner  best  adapted  to  excite  similar  feelings 
in  the  breasts  of  our  hearers.  But,  if  our  devotional  feelings 
are  habitually  languid,  if  our  hearts  do  not  teach  our  lips,  it 
is,  perhaps,  advisable  to  aim  at  nothing  beyond  a  monotonous 
solemnity,  rather  than,  by  affecting  what  we  do  not  feel,  to 
incur  the  certain  displeasure  of  our  Master,  and  the  proba- 
ble contempt  of  our  most  judicious  hearers.  If  we  have  no 
thoughts  or  feelings  that  glow,  it  is  worse  than  useless  to  affect 
*^  words  that  burn.^' 

*^  Another  fault,  which  is  not  unfrequently  found  in  our  de- 
votional performances,  I  know  not  how  to  describe  better  than 
by  saying  that  it  consists  in  praying  more  like  an  awakened, 
but  still  impenitent,  sinner,  or  more,  as  such  a  character  might 
be  supposed  to  pray,  than  like  a  real  Christian.  Different 
causes,  probably,  tend  to  the  adoption  of  this  method.  Some 
are  apparently  led  to  it  by  doubts  respecting  their  own  char- 
acter. They  often  suspect  that  they  are  not  truly  pious,  and 
therefore  fear  to  utter  the  language  of  a  pious  heart.  Others 
seem  to  adopt  it  in  consequence  of  false  humility.  They  fear 
it  would  be  thought  indicative  of  pride,  should  they  use  ex- 
pressions which  intim.ate  that  they  think  themselves  to  be  the 
real  disciples  of  Christ.  A  third  class  probably  adopt  this 
method  with  a  view  to  offer  prayers  in  which  awakened,  but 
still  impenitent,  sinners  may  join.  But,  whatever  may  be  the 
motives  which  lead  to  the  adoption  of  such  a  method,  it  is,  I 
conceive,  a  fault  which  ought  to  be  avoided.  It  is,  indeed,  a 
common,  and,  with  some  limitation,  a  just  remark,  that  a  min- 
ister is  the  mouth  of  his  people  to  God.  It  is,  however,  of  the 
pious  part  of  his  congregation,  only,  that  he  is  the  mouth. 
His  prayer,  then,  should  be  the  echo,  not  of  an  impenitent, 
but  of  a  pious  heart,  to  the  voice  of  God.     He  should  pray 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  193 

iDith  those  who  are  pious,  and  for  those  who  are  not  so.  In- 
stead of  praying  that  himself,  and  those  who  unite  with  him, 
may  exercise  the  feelings  of  a  Christian,  he  should  explicitly 
express  those  feelings.  This  is  necessary  for  his  own  sake, 
if  he  be  truly  pious ;  for,  if  he  be  so,  he  cannot  sincerely  utter 
the  language  of  an  impenitent  heart.  It  is  necessary  for  the 
sake  of  his  pious  hearers  ;  for,  w^iile  he  is  attempting  to  form 
a  prayer  in  which  all  may  join,  he  will  utter  many  expressions 
in  which  they  cannot  unite.  It  is  also  necessary  even  for  the 
sake  of  his  impenitent  hearers  ;  for  it  is  highly  important  for 
them  to  be  convinced  that  they  do  not,  and,  with  their  present 
feelings,  cannot  pray  ;  and  nothing  will  tend  more  effectually 
to  convince  them  of  this  important  truth,  than  listening  to 
prayers  in  which  truly  pious  feelings  and  holy  exercises  are 
distinctly  expressed.  For  similar  reasons,  it  is  desirable  that 
we  should  not  always  pray  in  a  manner  suited  only  to  inexpe- 
rienced, weak,  or  declining  Christians.  Instead  of  descend- 
ing to  their  standard,  we  must  endeavor  to  raise  them  to  ours. 
If  we  wish  our  people  to  feel  dissatisfied  with  their  present  at- 
tainments, and  to  become  eminent  Christians,  v/e  must  accus-- 
tom  them  to  hear  the  devotional  language  of  eminent  Chris- 
tians, by  uttering  such  language  in  our  prayers,  if,  indeed,  we 
can  do  it  without  uttering  what  we  do  not  ^ee\.  As  an  eagle 
tempts  her  young  to  soar  higher  than  they  would  dare  to  do 
were  they  not  encouraged  by  her  example,  fet>  the  minister  of 
Christ  should,  occasionally  at  least,  allure  his  people  to  the 
higher  region  of  devotion,  by  taking  a  bolder  flight  than  usual, 
and  uttering  the  language  of  strong  faith,  ardent  love,  unsha- 
ken confidence,  assured  hope,  and  rapturous  gratitude,  admi- 
ration, and  joy.  Some  of  his  hearers  can,  probably,  at  all 
times,  follow  him,  and  many  others  who  at  first  tremble  and 
hesitate  ;  many,  who  would  scarcely  dare  adopt  the  same  lan- 
guage in  their  closets,  will  gradually  catch  the  sacred  flame  ; 
their  hearts  will  burn  within  them.  While  their  pastor  leads 
the  way,  they  will  mount  up,  as  on  eagles'  wings,  toward 
heaven,  and  return  from  the  house  of  prayer,  not  cold  and 
languid,  as  they  entered,  but  glowing  with  the  fires  of  devo- 
tion. In  this,  as  well  as  in  other  respects,  it  will,  in  some 
measure,  be,  *  like  people,  like  priest.'  If  we  thus  strike  the 
golden  harp  of  devotion,  we  shall  soon  find  our  pious  hearers 
able  to  accompany  us  through  its  whole  compass  of  sound, 
from  the  low  notes  of  humble,  penitential  sorrow,  up  to  the 
high,  heart-thrilling  tones  of  rapturous  joy,  admiration,  love, 
and  praise,  which  are  in  union  with  the  harps  of  the  redeemed 
before  the  throne. 
17 


194  MEMOIR  OF 

"  Another  fault,  sometimes  found  in  devotional  performances 
which  are  otherwise  unexceptionable,  is  the  want  of  sufficient 
particularity.  Indeed,  most  of  our  public  prayers  are  too  gen- 
eral. They  bring  so  much  into  view,  that  nothing  is  seen  dis- 
tinctly. It  is  well  known,  that,  if  we  except  sublime  and  ter- 
rible objects,  nothing  affects  the  mind,  unless  it  be  clearly  and 
distinctly  perceived.  If  the  most  admired  descriptive  poems, 
and  those  which  produce  the  greatest  effect  upon  our  feelings, 
be  carefully  examined,  it  will  be  found  that  they  derive  their 
power  to  affect  us  almost  entirely  from  a  minute  and  striking 
description  of  a  few  judiciously-selected  particulars.  It  is  the 
same  with  our  devotional  performances.  We  may  praise  God, 
or  confess  sin,  or  pray  for  mercy,  or  return  thanks  for  divine 
favor,  in  a  general  way,  without  being  ourselves  affected,  and 
v/ithout  exciting  the  affections  of  our  hearers.  But  when  we 
descend  to  particulars,  the  effect  is  different.  The  mind  re- 
ceives, drop  after  drop,  till  it  is  full.  We  should,  therefore, 
aim  at  as  great  a  degree  of  particularity,  as  the  time  allotted 
us,  and  the  variety  of  topics  on  which  we  must  touch,  will 
allow.  Especially  is  it  important,  that  we  enter  deeply  and 
particularly  into  every  part  of  Christian  experience,  and  lay 
open  all  the  minute  ramifications,  and  almost  imperceptible 
workings  of  the  pious  heart,  in  its  various  situations,  and  thus 
show  our  hearers  to  themselves  in  every  point  of  view.  In  a 
v/ord,  our  public  prayers  should  resemble,  as  nearly  as  propriety 
will  allow,  the  breathings  of  an  humble,  judicious,  and  fervently- 
pious  Christian,  in  his  private  devotions.  The  prayer  of  the 
pulpit  differs  too  much — it  should  differ  as  little  as  possible — 
from  the  prayer  of  the  closet.  A  neglect,  in  this  particular, 
often  renders  our  performances  uninteresting  and  unacceptable 
to  those  whom  we  should  most  desire  to  gratify. 

"  Such,  I  conceive,  are  the  principal  defects,  which  are  most 
frequently  found  in  our  devotional  performances.  It  is  obvious, 
that  they  are  all  occasioned,  either  wholly  or  in  part,  by  a  lan- 
guid st.ate  of  devotional  feeling ;  and  that  the  only  effectual 
remedy  is  to  be  sought  in  the  diligent  cultivation  of  a  frame  of 
temper  habitually  devout.  That  a  minister  may  lead  the  devo- 
tions of  his  people  in  the  most  suitable  and  edifying  manner,  it 
seems  indispensable  that  he  should  possess  a  mind  deeply  im- 
bued with  divine  truth  ;  a  mind,  into  the  very  frame  and  tex- 
ture of  which  the  doctrines  of  revelation  are  wrought ;  and  a 
heart  thoroughly  broken  and  humbled  for  sin,  and  tremblingly 
alive  to  the  voice  of  God,  and  ever  glowing  with  celestial  fire. 
He,  who,  with  such  a  mind  and  such  a  heart,  lives  much  in 
his  closet,  praying,  as  the  apostle  expresses  it,  in  the  Holy 


EDWARD  PAYSOiN.  195 

Ghost,  and  habitually  imploring  his  assistance  to  help  his  in- 
firmities, will  always  lead  the  devotions  of  his  people  in  a  judi- 
cious, edifying,  and  acceptable  manner ;  nor  will  he  need  the 
aid  of  a  precomposed  form.  In  his  prayers,  as  well  as  in  his  ser- 
mons, he  will  constantly  bring  out  of  his  treasury  things  nev/ 
and  old.  But  if  our  hearts  will  not  pray,  or  teach  us  in  what 
manner  to  cry  to  our  heavenly  Father  and  Redeemer,  our  un- 
derstandings must;  and  we  must  either  compose  or  borrow 
forms  for  that  purpose.  How  far,  in  this  case,  we  can  be  con- 
sidered as  called  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  or  fitted  for  it,  is 
not  for  me  to  say ;  but,  surely,  he  who  can  contemplate  the 
wonders  of  creation,  and  yet  find  nothing  to  say  to  his  Maker ; 
still  more,  he  who  can  meditate  on  the  mysteries  of  redeeming 
love,  and  behold  the  glory  of  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ, 
without  feeling  praises  ready  to  burst  spontaneously  from  his 
lips,  has  some  reason  to  fear  that  he  possesses  little  of  the  spirit 
of  heaven,  and  that  he  has  never  learned  that  new  song,  which 
none  can  learn  but  those  who  are  redeemed  from  the  earth ;  for, 
with  reference  to  this  subject,  it  may  be  emphatically  said,  in 
the  words  of  inspiration,  *  the  heart  of  the  wise  teacheth  his 
mouth,  and  addeth  learning  to  his  lips.'  " 

Such  public  prayers  as  he  offered  were  singularly  adapted 
to  affect  the  minds  of  an  assembly,  and  prepare  them  for  the 
reception  of  religious  truths,  besides  being  the  appointed  means 
of  obtaining  the  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  "  to  render  the 
word  effectual  to  salvation."  To  his  ardent  and  persevering 
prayers  must,  no  doubt,  be  ascribed,  in  a  great  measure,  his 
distinguished  and  almost  uninterrupted  success ;  and,  next  to 
these,  the  undoubted  sincerity  of  his  belief  in  the  truths  which 
he  inculcated.  His  language,  his  conversation,  and  whole  de- 
portment, were  such  as  brought  home  and  fastened  on  the 
minds  of  his  hearers  the  conviction  that  he  believed,  and  there- 
fore spoke.  So  important  did  he  regard  such  a  conviction  in 
the  attendants  on  the  ministry,  that  he  made  it  the  topic  of 
one  of  his  addresses  to  his  clerical  brethren  ;  and  most  of  his 
remarks  on  this  subject  will  here  be  introduced,  as  disclosing 
one  of  those  great  principles  which  formed  the  basis  of  his 
ministerial  character. 

**  The  importance  of  convincing  our  hearers  that  we 
believe  what  we  preach,  and  the  means  necessary 
to  produce  such  a  conviction  in  their  minds. 

"  The  importance  of  convincing  our  hearers  that  we  firmly 


196  MEMOIR  OF 

believe  the  truths  which  we  inculcate,  and  that  by  this  belief 
we  are  habitually  actuated  in  our  conduct,  as  men  and  as 
ministers,  will  appear  sufficiently  evident  from  the  fact,  that, 
on  their  feeling  such  a  conviction,  the  success  of  our  labors 
among  them  very  much  depends.  That  this  is  a  fact,  will  not, 
it  is  presumed,  be  denied.  When  expressing  a  belief  that  it 
is  so,  however,  I  am  far  from  intending  to  assert,  that  a  con- 
viction of  a  minister's  sincerity  in  the  minds  of  his  hearers  is 
inseparably  connected  with  ministerial  success.  I  would  not, 
even  for  a  moment,  forget  that,  after  every  human  exertion 
possible  has  been  made,  the  smallest  success  is  owing  entirely 
to  the  blessing  of  God  ;  nor  that  he  bestows  this  blessing  as  he 
pleases,  in  a  sovereign  way.  I  am  also  fully  aware  of  the  fact, 
that  many  faithful  ministers  of  Christ,  who  have  exhibited  the 
strongest  evidence,  and  produced  in  the  minds  of  their  hearers 
the  fullest  conviction  of  their  sincerity,  have  been  favored  with 
this  blessing  but  in  a  very  small  degree ;  while  not  a  few  of 
questionable  sincerity,  to  say  the  least,  have  apparently  been 
made  instrumental  of  extensive  good. 

"  Still,  though  I  would  by  no  means  estimate  a  minister's 
fidelity  by  his  apparent  success,  I  must  consider  it  as  a  truth, 
to  which  all  will  readily  assent,  that,  generally  speaking,  no 
minister  can  reasonably  expect  his  labors  to  be  successful, 
whose  life  does  not  exhibit  evidence  of  his  sincerity ;  whose 
hearers  are  not  convinced  that  he  believes  the  message  which 
he  delivers.  It  is  too  evident  to  require  proof,  that,  without 
such  a  conviction,  our  hearers  will  not  even  respect  us  as  men. 
Insincerity  is  a  vice,  which,  however  men  may  tolerate  it  in 
themselves,  they  universally  agree  to  despise  and  condemn  in 
others ;  and  never  do  they  reprobate  it  more  severely,  or  more 
justly,  than  when  it  is  found  in  those  who  minister  at  the  altar 
of  God.  If,  then,  our  hearers  suspect  that  we  are  guilty  of  it ; 
if  they  suppose  that  we  attend  to  our  profession  merely  as  a 
profession,  and  inculcate  doctrines  on  them  which  we  do  not 
ourselves  believe,  they  will  assuredly  consider  us  as  mercenary 
hypocrites,  who  sacrilegiously  profane  things  most  sacred,  sac- 
rifice to  vanity,  or  avarice,  on  the  altar  of  God,  employ  the 
cross  of  Christ  as  a  ladder  for  ambition,  and  consequently  de- 
serve to  be  regarded  only  with  abhorrence  and  contempt.  That 
the  existence  of  such  suspicions  in  their  minds  must  most 
powerfully  tend  to  prevent  the  success  of  our  labors,  it  is  need- 
less to  remark. 

"  And  as,  while  our  hearers  entertain  such  suspicions,  they 
will  despise  us  as  men,  much  more  will  they  disregard  us  in 
our  official  character,  as  the  ambassadors  of  Christ.     '^  Physi- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  197 

cian,  heal  thyself,"  will  be  their  secret,  if  not  open  reply  to  all 
our  admonitions,  instructions,  and  reproofs.  With  what  appa- 
rent attention  soever  they  may  be  induced  by  worldly  motives 
to  treat  our  ministrations,  many  of  them  will  be  gradually  led 
to  consider  the  services  of  the  sanctuary  as  a  kind  of  solemn 
farce,  designed  to  impose  on  the  weak  and  ignorant,  in  which 
we  are  called  by  our  profession  to  act  the  principal  part ;  a  part 
which  requires  us  to  utter  things  which,  as  we  appear  not  to 
believe  them  ourselves,  they  will  feel  themselves  under  no  obli- 
gations to  believe  or  obey. 

"  The  well  known  and  often  quoted  maxim  of  the  poet, 


■  Si  vis  me  flere,  dolendum  est 


Primum  ipsi  tibi  - 


is,  with  a  slight  variation,  peculiarly  applicable  to  the  ministers 
of  Christ.  If  they  wish  their  hearers  to  believe  and  be  affect- 
ed by  the  truth  which  they  deliver,  they  must  first  appear,  at 
least,  to  believe  and  be  affected  by  it  themselves.  In  vain  will 
they  declare,  from  the  pulpit,  that  God  is  in  this  place,  and  in- 
culcate the  necessity  of  worshipping  him  with  reverence  and 
godly  fear,  while  their  demeanor  affords  reason  to  suspect,  that 
they  are  themselves  totally  unconscious  of  his  presence.  In 
vain  will  they  teach  that  men  are  entirely  guilty  and  depraved, 
while  they  appear  either  not  to  know,  or  to  habitually  forget, 
that  they  are  by  nature  children  of  wrath,  even  as  others.  In 
vain  will  they  preach  Christ  crucified,  while  their  hearers  can- 
not take  knowledge  of  them  that  they  have  been  with  Jesus, 
and  they  appear  to  know  him  only  by  name.  In  vain  will  they, 
like  Noah,  that  preacher  of  righteousness,  warn  mankind  of  an 
approaching  flood,  and  urge  them  to  fly  from  the  wrath  to  come, 
while  their  people  imagine  that  they  are  not,  like  Noah,  pre- 
paring an  ark  for  their  own  salvation.  In  vain  will  they  forbid 
their  hearers  to  lay  up  treasure  on  earth,  while  their  own  con- 
duct excites  a  suspicion  that  they  mind  earthly  things ;  and  in 
vain  will  they  inculcate  heavenly-mindedness,  or  expatiate  on 
the  joys  above,  the  worth  of  the  soul,  and  the  solemn  realities 
of  the  eternal  world,  while  their  lives  produce  no  conviction  in 
the  minds  of  their  people,  that  they  are  actuated  by  that  faith 
which  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  and  the  evidence 
of  things  not  seen.  *  In  vain,'  says  a  celebrated  French  prel- 
ate, *  do  we  preach  to  our  hearers.  Our  lives,  of  which  they 
are  witnesses,  are,  with  the  generality  of  men,  the  gospel ;  it  is 
not  what  we  declare  in  the  house  of  God ;  it  is  what  they  see 
us  practise  in  our  general  demeanor.  They  look  upon  the 
public  ministry  as  a  stage  designed  for  the  display  of  exalted 
17* 


198  MEMOIR  OF 

principles,  beyond  the  reach  of  human  weakness ;  but  they 
consider  our  life  as  the  reality  by  which  they  are  to  be  directed/ 

"  But  it  is  saying  too  little,  to  assert,  that,  while  suspicions 
are  generally  entertained  of  a  minister's  sincerity,  no  beneficial 
effects  can  reasonably  be  expected  to  result  from  his  labors. 
In  almost  every  instance,  they  will  probably  be  found  to  pro- 
duce effects  positively  mischievous.  His  unbelief,  whether 
real  or  supposed,  will  ever  be  urged  by  his  hearers  in  vindica- 
tion of  their  own.  If  he,  they  will  say,  whose  profession  leads 
him  to  study  the  Scriptures,  and  who  is,  consequently,  well  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  evidence  in  their  favor,  does  not  sincerely 
believe  their  contents,  why  should  we  ?  In  addition  to  this,  the 
contempt  with  which  he  will  be  regarded,  as  a  man  and  as  a 
minister,  will  insensibly  extend,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  to 
the  truths  which  he  preaches,  and  to  the  religion  whose  minis- 
ter he  professedly  is.  Many  of  his  hearers  will  be  gradually 
led  to  a  conclusion,  to  which  men  are  of  themselves  sufficiently 
prone,  that  all  other  ministers,  in  past  and  present  ages,  re- 
semble their  own,  and  that  Christianity  is  a  system  of  priest- 
craft and  delusion,  invented  by  designing  men  for  their  own 
benefit,  and  intended  to  keep  the  ignorant,  weak,  and  credu- 
lous in  awe. 

"  Or,  should  they  not,  as  will  doubtless  in  many  instances  be 
the  case,  think  thus  of  Christianity  itself,  they  will  at  least  form 
such  an  opinion  of  the  order  and  denoitiination  to  which  we 
belong,  and  be,  consequently,  led  to  seek  among  other  sects, 
and  even  wild  enthusiasts,  for  that  religious  zeal  and  sincerity 
which  they  know  ought  to  be  found  in  all  the  ministers  of 
Christ,  but  which  they  imagine  is  not  to  be  found  in  us.  And 
while  many  of  our  hearers  will  thus  be  led  into  error  or  specu- 
lative infidelity,  a  large  proportion  of  those  who  remain  will 
infallibly  become  practical  infidels,  or  settle  down  contented 
with  a  meager  form  of  godliness,  in  perfect  ignorance  of  its 
transforming,  life-giving  power.  It  is  in  vain  to  evade  the 
force  of  these  obvious  truths,  by  urging  the  acknowledged  max- 
im, that  the  Bible  is  the  only  rule  of  faith  and  practice  ;  that  to 
this  alone  men  ought  to  look,  and  that  they  are  entirely  inex- 
cusable in  thus  confounding  religion  with  the  conduct  of  its 
ministers,  and,  for  the  faults  of  one,  condemning  the  other.  We 
readily  allow  that  they  are  so.  But  still,  as  has  been  often 
remarked,  we  must  take  men  as  they  are,  not  as  they  ought  to 
be ;  and  to  the  plea  just  mentioned,  it  is  a  sufficient  reply,  that 
the  principle  of  association  in  the  human  mind  powerfully  tends 
to  produce  the  effects  here  alluded  to ;  and  that  such,  in  part, 
ever  have  been  the  effects  of  apparent  insincerity  in  the  minis- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  199 

ters  of  Christ.  We  are  far,  however,  from  asserting  or  suppos- 
ing, that  such  effects  may  not  arise  from  other  causes ;  or  that 
the  prevalence  of  vice  and  error  among  a  people  necessarily 
proves  that  their  minister  is  unfaithful  or  insincere.  We  know 
that  prejudice  often  renders  men  blind  to  the  plainest  and  most 
unequivocal  proofs  of  sincerity. 

"  We  know  that  men  are  naturally  opposed  to  divine  truth, 
and  prone  to  hate  those  who  press  it  upon  them  with  plainness 
and  fidelity.  We  are  also  aware,  that  many  of  our  hearers 
scan  our  conduct  with  a  critical  and  malignant  eye,  and  are 
eager  to  discover  something  in  us,  which  may  furnish  an  ex- 
cuse for  their  own  errors,  and  justify  them  in  asserting  that 
we  do  not  believe  what  we  preach.  But  it  cannot  escape  your 
notice,  my  fathers  and  brethren,  that  these  dispositions,  while 
they  render  it  in  some  cases  exceedingly  difficult  to  convince 
men  of  our  sincerity,  afford  also  most  powerful  reasons  why 
we  should  make  the  attempt.  If  they  are  thus  prone  to  suspect 
the  reality  of  our  belief,  we  must  be  careful  to  afford  them  no 
real  or  apparent  cause  for  suspicion.  If  they  scan  our  conduct 
with  a  critical  and  malignant  eye,  we  must  give  double  dili- 
gence to  render  it  irreproachable.  And  if  they  naturally  hate 
those  truths  which  duty  requires  us  to  preach,  it  becomes  us 
to  see  that  their  hatred  derives  no  excuse  or  palliation  from  our 
temper  or  practice.  They  must,  if  possible,  be  constrained  to 
feel  a  conviction,  that,  in  declaring  these  offensive  truths,  we 
are  actuated,  not  by  mercenary  views,  nor  by  bigotry,  morose- 
ness,  or  severity  of  temper,  but  by  an  imperious  sense  of 
duty,  and  by  a  tender,  deep,  and  unfeigned  concern  for  the 
glory  of  God,  and  the  salvation  of  their  souls;  that  we  are  not 
marking  out  one  path  for  them,  and  another  for  ourselves,  but 
that  we  watch  for  their  souls  as  those  who  know  that  they 
must  give  an  account ;  and  that  we  habitually  and  uniformly 
seek,  not  their  wealth,  their  applause,  their  friendship,  but 
their  salvation.  That  it  is  possible,  in  most  instances,  to  pro- 
duce and  maintain  this  conviction  in  the  minds  of  men,  is  evi- 
dent from  facts.  That  the  first  preachers  of  the  gospel  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  it,  cannot  be  denied.  While  they  were  ac- 
cused of  almost  every  other  crime,  they  seem  never  to  have 
been  even  suspected  of  insincerity.  They  could  say  publicly, 
without  fear  of  contradiction, — for  they  knew  that  their  whole 
conduct,  and  even  the  consciences  of  their  enemies,  bore  testi- 
mony to  the  truth  of  their  assertions, — ^'  We  believe,  and  there- 
fore speak."  "  Knowing  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  we  persuade 
men."  "  If  we  be  beside  ourselves,  it  is  to  God ;  and  if  we  be  so- 
ber, it  is  for  your  cause  ;  for  we  seek  not  yours,  but  you  ;  and 


200  MEMOIR  OP 

we  will  very  gladly  spend  and  be  spent  for  you,  though,  the 
more  abundantly  we  love  you,  the  less  we  be  loved.  As  of 
sincerity,  as  of  God,  in  the  sight  of  God,  speak  we  in  Christ. 
For  we  are  manifest  unto  God,  and  we  trust  also,  are  manifest 
in  your  consciences." 

"  But  the  situation  of  things,  at  the  present  day,  is  some- 
what different.  While  we  are  seldom  charged  with  other 
faults,  we  are  not  unfrequently  suspected,  and  even  accused, 
of  insincerity  ;  of  not  really  believing  what  we  preach.  It  is  a 
melancholy  fact,  that  multitudes  among  us  appear  to  consider 
the  ministry  merely  as  a  profession,  and  to  suppose  that  we 
preach  the  gospel  only  because  it  is,  in  the  view  of  men,  a 
professional  duty.  They  seem  not  to  imagine  that  we  expect, 
or  even  wish,  that  they  should  believe  the  message  which  we 
bring.  To  account  for  this  melancholy  fact,  is  no  part  of  my 
present  design.  Whether  it  is  owing  to  the  bold  assertions  of 
our  enemies,  to  the  prevalence  of  sectarism  and  infidelity,  or 
to  something  in  our  own  conduct,  is  not  for  me  to  determine  ; 
but  certain  it  is,  that  ministers  of  our  denomination  are,  by 
very  many,  regarded  as  mercenary  hirelings,  who  "  prophesy 
for  reward,  and  divine  for  money."  Surely,  then,  it  becomes 
us,  my  fathers  and  brethren,  to  do  every  thing  in  our  power  to 
remove  these  injurious  impressions,  and  to  convince  both  our 
hearers  and  others,  that,  like  the  apostles,  we  believe,  and 
therefore  speak. 

"  The  means  necessary  for  the  production  of  this  effect  will 
next  demand  our  attention. 

**  What  means  are  necessary  for  this  purpose  we  may  learn 
in  two  different  ways. 

"  We  may  learn  them  from  a  careful  attention  to  the  con- 
duct of  the  first  preachers  of  Christianity.  That  they  suc- 
ceeded in  convincing  men  of  their  sincerity,  we  have  already 
seen.  And  since,  in  similar  circumstances,  the  same  causes 
ever  produce  similar  eflfects,  we  may  reasonably  hope,  by  imi- 
tating their  example,  to  produce  a  similar  conviction  in  the 
minds  of  our  hearers. 

"  The  means  necessary  for  this  purpose  may  be  inferred, 
also,  from  a  consideration  of  the  nature  and  effects  of  faith,  as 
described  by  the  inspired  writers.  They  inform  us,  that  it  is 
"the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of  things 
not  seen."  It  enables  those  who  possess  it  "to  endure,  as  see- 
ing him  who  is  invisible."  It  gives  unseen  things  a  sub- 
stance, a  reality,  an  existence  in  the  mind.  It  does,  as  it 
were,  clothe  them  with  a  body,  and  thus  leads  those  who  pos- 
sess it  to  feel  and  act,  in  some  measure,  as  they  would  do. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  201 

were  the  objects  of  faith  made  visible  ;  were  God  and  Christ, 
and  heaven  and  hell,  rendered  objects  of  sense.  If,  then,  we 
would  convince  our  hearers  that  we  possess  this  faith,  we 
must  conduct  in  a  similar  manner.  In  other  words,  we  must 
imitate  the  temper  and  conduct  of  the  apostles  ;  for  it  will  ap- 
pear, on  a  moment's  reflection,  that  these  different  methods  of 
ascertaining  the  means  necessary  to  convince  men  of  our  sin- 
cerity lead  to  precisely  the  same  result. 

"  A  general  idea  of  the  manner  in  which  a  minister  would 
conduct,  to  whom  the  great  objects  of  faith  were  rendered  vis- 
ible, may  easily  be  formed.  He  would  feel,  that  God  is  all  in 
all,  that  his  favor  is  the  one  thing  needful,  that  his  displeas- 
ure is  the  only  thing  dreadful,  and  that,  to  a  minister,  noth- 
ing, comparatively  speaking,  is  worth  knowing  or  making 
known,  but  Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified.  He  would  feel, 
that  the  temporal  happiness  of  kingdoms,  and  even  of  worlds, 
is  nothing,  in  comparison  with  the  salvation  of  a  single  soul. 
With  such  feelings  his  conduct  would  correspond.  While  he 
contemplated  the  broad  road,  with  the  multitudes  who  throng 
it,  and  the  destruction  in  which  it  ends,  his  compassion,  grief, 
and  zeal,  would  be  most  powerfully  excited,  and  lead  him  to 
make  every  possible  exertion  to  snatch  his  hearers  as  brands 
from  the  burning.  '  Knowing  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  he 
would  persuade  men.'  In  the  performance  of  this  duty,  he 
would  be  instant  in  season,  and  out  of  season,  and  preach  the 
word,  not  only  publicly  in  the  house  of  God,  but  privately  and 
from  house  to  house.  In  a  word,  he  would  give  himself  wholly 
to  his  work ;  consecrate  to  it  all  the  powers  of  his  body  and  mind, 
and  pursue  the  grand  object  of  saving  himself,  and  them  that 
heard  him,  with  unabated  ardor  and  activity,  to  the  close  of  life. 

"  The  influence  of  the  great  objects  which  he  beholds, 
would  appear  also  in  his  manner  of  performing  ministerial  du- 
ties. In  his  public  approaches  to  the  throne  of  grace,  he 
would  exhibit  a  personification  of  reverence  and  godly  fear, 
and  evince  that  he  was  addressing  a  present  being ;  that  he 
felt  himself  immediately  under  the  eye  of  a  holy,  heart-search- 
ing God.  While  he  would  make  supplication  for  himself  and 
his  people,  like  one  who  was  pleading  for  life,  at  the  bar  of  his 
judge,  every  word  and  accent  would  show  that  he  was  deeply 
convinced  of  his  guilt  and  sinfulness ;  that  he  felt  the  need  of  a 
Mediator  ;  that  he  felt,  also,  that  holy,  humble  confidence, 
which  the  sight  of  such  a  Mediator  as  Christ  is  calculated  to 
inspire. 

"  In  delivering  his  message  as  an  ambassador  of  Christ,  he 
would  show  that  he  felt  deeply  penetrated  with  a  conviction  of 


202  MEMOIR  OF 

its  truth  and  infinite  importance.  He  would  speak  like  one 
whose  whole  soul  was  filled  with  his  subject.  He  would 
speak  of  Christ  and  his  salvation  as  a  grateful,  admiring  peo- 
ple would  speak  of  a  great  and  generous  deliverer,  who  had 
devoted  his  life  for  the  welfare  of  his  country.  He  would  de- 
scribe religion  as  a  traveller  describes  a  country  through 
which  he  has  leisurely  passed,  or  as  an  aged  man  describes  the 
scenes  of  his  former  life.  He  would  portray  the  Christian 
warfare  as  a  veteran  portrays  a  battle,  in  which  he  has  just 
been  contending  for  liberty  and  life.  He  would  speak  of  eter- 
nity as  one  whose  eye  had  been  w  earied  in  attempting  to  pen- 
etrate its  unfathomable  recesses,  and  describe  its  awful  reali- 
ties like  a  man  who  stood  on  the  verge  of  time,  and  had  lifted 
the  veil  which  conceals  them  from  the  view  of  mortals. 
*  Thoughts  that  glow  and  words  that  burn'  would  compose 
his  public  addresses ;  and  while  a  sense  of  the  dignity  of  his 
official  character,  and  the  infinite  importance  of  his  subject, 
would  lead  him  to  speak,  as  one  having  authority,  with  inde- 
scribable solemnity,  weight,  and  energy;  a  full  recollection, 
that  he  was  by  nature  a  child  of  wrath,  and  that  he  was  ad- 
dressing fellow  men,  fellow  sinners^  mingled  with  compassion 
for  their  wretched  state,  and  an  ardent  desire  for  their  salva- 
tion, would  spread  an  air  of  tenderness  over  his  discourses, 
and  invest  him  with  that  affectionate,  melting,  persuasive  cor- 
rectness of  manner,  which  is  best  calculated  to  affect  and  pen- 
etrate the  heart.  To  say  all  in  a  word,  he  would  speak  like 
an  ambassador  of  him  who  spake  as  never  man  spake,  and 
who  could  say.  We  speak  what  we  do  know,  and  testify  what 
we  have  seen. 

"  Nor  would  the  great  objects  which  he  beheld  lose  their 
influence  when  he  descended  from  the  sacred  desk.  Wher- 
ever he  went,  they  would  still  surround  him,  and  their  over- 
whelming importance  would  annihilate  in  his  mind  the  impor- 
tance of  all  other  objects.  Wherever  he  went,  he  would  see 
before  him  immortal  beings,  who  were  either  heirs  of  glory  or 
children  of  perdition  ;  pilgrims  on  their  way,  to  heaven,  or 
travellers  to  hell.  To  awaken,  convince,  and  convert  the  one, 
and  to  animate,  instruct,  and  comfort  the  other,  would  be  the 
great  object  of  his  private  conversation,  as  well  as  of  his  pub- 
lic addresses ;  and  the  prosecution  of  this  object  would  leave 
him  neither  leisure  nor  inclination  to  attend  to  secular  con- 
cerns, any  further  than  absolute  necessity  required.  Feeling 
that  he  watched  for  souls  as  one  who  must  give  an  account, 
and  knowing  the  secret  errors,  mistakes,  and  delusions,  into 
which  men  are  prone  to  fall,  he  would  be  anxious  to  acquire 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  203 

as  perfect  a  knowledge  as  possible  of  the  religious  character, 
views,  and  feelings,  of  every  individual  in  his  flock,  and  would 
improve  every  favorable  opportunity  for  this  purpose.  Nor, 
while  employed  in  cultivating  the  vineyard  of  others,  would  he 
forget  or  neglect  his  own  ;  but  would  labor  to  save  himself,  as 
well  as  to  secure  the  salvation  of  them  that  heard  him.  He 
would  be  emphatically  a  man  of  prayer,  and,  like  his  divine 
Master,  would  often  retire  and  ascend  the  mount  to  converse 
with  God,  and  draw  from  the  Fountain  of  life  fresh  supplies. 

"  It  is  needless  to  add,  that  he  would  not  be  conformed  to 
the  world,  nor  seek  its  honors,  wealth,  or  applause.  With  a 
fixed  and  steadfast  eye,  he  would  contemplate  things  unseen 
and  eternal,  and  count  neither  the  joys  nor  the  sufferings  of 
the  present  life  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that 
shall  be  revealed.  Thus  his  life,  as  well  as  his  sermons,  would 
preach ;  his  official  character  would  never  be  laid  aside  or  for- 
gotten ;  his  sincerity  would  be  manifest  to  the  consciences  of 
his  hearers,  and  all  would  exclaim,  with  one  voice,  "  This  man 
believes,  and  therefore  speaks." 

**  Such,  my  fathers  and  brethren,  would  probably  be  a  min- 
ister who  saw  what  we  all  profess  to  believe.  Such  were  the 
first  preachers  of  the  gospel ;  and  such,  in  some  degree  at 
least,  must  we  be,  if  we  would  convince  men  of  our  sincerity. 
We  must  imitate  the  example  of  the  apostles,  and  exhibit  the 
influence  of  that  faith,  which  the  Scriptures  describe,  in  the 
discharge  of  our  public  official  duties.  In  the  performance  of 
these  duties,  we  must  not  confine  ourselves  within  those  lim- 
its which  sloth  or  negligence  first  introduced,  and  which  cus- 
tom has  sanctioned.  We  must  not  restrict  our  labors  to  the 
stated  and  ordinary  services  of  the  sanctuary.  These  our 
hearers  expect.  For  these  they  imagine  that  we  are  paid. 
Their  regular  performance  is  therefore  considered,  and  justly 
so,  as  affording  no  proof  of  our  sincerity.  To  evince  the  real- 
ity of  our  belief,  something  more  is  necessary.  We  cannot 
reasonably  expect  our  hearers  to  believe  that  we  sincerely  and 
earnestly  desire  their  salvation,  while  we  do  nothing  more  to 
promote  it  than  custom  or  a  regard  to  our  reputation  re- 
quires ;  nor  is  it  easy  to  conceive  how  they  can  suppose,  that 
we  really  believe  them  to  be  constantly  exposed  to  endless, 
remediless  ruin,  while  we  warn  them  of  their  danger  on  the 
Sabbath  only,  and  appear  to  forget  their  perilous  situation 
during  the  remainder  of  the  week.  If  we  wish  them  to  feel 
'  convinced  that  such  is  their  situation,  and  that  we  really  be- 
lieve it  to  be  so,  we  must  show  them  that  we  fix  no  limits  to 
our  labors,  but  those  which  necessity  prescribes. 


•204  '        MEMOIR  OF 

'*  Of  little,  if  any,  less  importance  is  it,  that  we  exhibit  the 
influence  and  effects  of  faith  in  our  manner  of  performing 
ministerial  duties.  However  frequently  or  plainly  we  may 
warn  our  hearers,  if  we  address  them  only  in  a  cold,  unfeel- 
ing manner,  we  can  scarcely  expect  them  to  feel  convinced 
of  our  sincerity.  Such,  evidently,  was  not  the  manner  in 
which  the  first  preachers  of  Christianity  inculcated  its  doc- 
trines. St.  Paul  could  say,  when  bidding  farewell  to  his  Ephe- 
sian  hearers,  "  I  ceased  not  to  warn  every  one  of  you,  night 
and  day,"with  tears."  Considering  the  sanguine  temperament 
of  the  apostle,  and  the  different  constitutions  and  dispositions 
of  men,  it  cannot,  perhaps,  be  reasonably  demanded  or  expect- 
ed, that  every  minister  should  be  able  to  say  this ;  though,  if 
any  thing  can  justly  call  for  tears,  it  must  be  the  situation  of 
our  impenitent  hearers  ;  and  to  weep  in  contemplation  of  the 
miseries  which  they  are  bringing  upon  themselves,  is  highly  be- 
coming in  the  ministers  of  him  who  wept  over  rebellious  Je- 
rusalem. To  say  the  least,  some  degree  of  apparent  earnest- 
ness, zeal,  and  fervor,  seems  requisite  to  stamp  our  public  dis- 
courses with  an  air  of  sincerity ;  and  when  the  natural  dispo- 
sition renders  it  impossible  to  manifest  much  warmth  of  feel- 
ing, as  in  many  cases  it  undoubtedly  does,  it  is  peculiarly  ne- 
cessary that  its  absence  should  be  supplied  by  increased  solem- 
nity and  energy  in  the  dispensation  of  truth.  Mankind  are  so 
constituted,  that  it  is  exceedingly  difficult,  not  to  say  impossi- 
ble, for  them  to  believe  that  a  speaker  is  in  earnest,  who  does 
not  appear  to  be  interested  in  his  subject,  or  who  delivers  inter- 
esting and  important  truths,  in  a  manner  which  betrays  a  total 
want  of  feeling ;  and  never  are  they  less  ready  to  excuse  such 
a  manner — never,  indeed,  is  it  less  excusable — than  when 
found  in  those  who  preach  the  glorious  gospel  of  the  blessed 
God,  and,  in  his  name,  warn  sinners  to  fly  from  the  wrath  to 
come.  It  is,  doubtless,  to  their  adoption  of  a  more  warm  and 
impassioned  mode  of  address,  that  the  influence  of  sectarian 
preachers  over  the  minds  of  common  hearers  is  to  be  princi- 
pally ascribed.  It  is  this,  which  gives  their  loose  and  desulto- 
ry, but  vehement  harangues,  an  air  of  sincerity,  an  appear- 
ance of  flowing  warm  from  the  heart,  which  our  more  correct 
and  methodical  discourses  do  not  always  possess,  but  which  is 
almost  indispensably  necessary  to  the  production  of  a  general 
belief  that  we  are  sincere.  In  making  these  observations,  I 
would  not,  however,  be  understood  to  intimate,  that  an  appa- 
rent want  of  fervency,  zeal,  and  animation,  affords,  in  all  cases, 
just  cause  for  questioning  a  minister's  sincerity ;  or  that  the 
degree  of  real  feeling  is  always  in  proportion  to  the  outward 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  205 

expressions  of  it.  We  readily  allow,  that  many  may  firmly  be- 
lieve the  truths  they  deliver,  and  feel  deeply  interested  in  their 
success,  and  yet,  in  consequence  of  a  constitutional  coolness 
and  evenness  of  temper,  display  less  warmth  and  animation 
than  others  who  are  fir  below  them  in  real  faith  and  religious 
sensibility.  Still,  we  cannot  believe  that  it  is  impossible  for 
any  one,  whose  heart  glows  with  the  sacred  fire  of  love  and 
zeal,  to  preach  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  leave  in  the  minds  of 
his  hearers  no  doubt  of  his  sincerity,  or  of  his  earnest  desire  to 
effect  their  salvation. 

"  If  this  be  important,  it  is,  if  possible,  still  more  so,  that  we 
exhibit  the  influence  and  effects  of  faith  in  our  more  private 
intercourse  with  society.  ^  It  is  here,'  says  a  celebrated  Eng- 
lish prelate,  '  that,  I  conceive,  we  of  the  clergy  are  apt  to  fail. 
We  do  not  always,  in  the  common  intercourse  of  life,  appear 
sufficiently  penetrated  with  the  importance  of  our  function,  or 
sufficiently  assiduous  in  promoting  the  ends  of  our  mission.' 
*  I  could  name  instances,'  says  another  divine,  *  where  it  has 
appeared  to  me,  that  the  probable  good  effects  of  a  very  faith- 
ful testimony  in  the  pulpit,  have,  humanly  speaking,  been 
wholly  defeated  by  too  successful  endeavors  to  be  agreeable  out 
of  it.'  These  remarks,  though  made  with  reference  to  the 
English  clergy,  are  but  in  too  many  instances  applicable  to  the 
divines  of  our  own  country  ;  and  they  suggest,  at  once,  much 
important  instruction  and  reproof  It  is  doubtless  right  to 
associate  with  all  classes  among  our  hearers,  and  even  with 
publicans  and  sinners;  but  it  must  be  only,  or  principally,  with 
a  design  to  instruct  and  reform  them.  It  is  also  not  only  right, 
but  a  duty,  to  become  all  things  to  all  men,  so  far  as  we  law- 
fully can  ;  but  our  only  object  in  doing  it  must  be  by  all  meanj 
to  save  some ;  and  if  the  object  be  not  kept  steadily  in  view, 
if  religious  conversation  be  not  introduced  On  all  proper  occa- 
sions, on  all  occasions  which  Christ  and  his  apostles  would  have 
thought  proper  for  this  purpose,  our  social  intercourse  with  our 
hearers  will  certainly  become  a  snare  to  us,  and  a  stumbling 
block  to  them ;  and,  perhaps,  more  than  counteract  the  good 
effects  of  all  our  public  addresses.  If  we  lay  aside  our  official 
character,  and  feel  as  if  we  had  discharged  all  our  official  du- 
ties, when  we  descend  from  the  sacred  desk  ;  if,  while  associat- 
ing with  our  impenitent  hearers,  we  appear  to  forget  their  char- 
acter, and  the  awfully  dangerous  situation  in  which  they  stand, 
they  will  certainly  forget  it  too,  and  probably  doubt  whether  we 
really  believe  it  ourselves.  Should  a  physician  assure  a  num- 
ber of  his  patients,  that  their  symptoms  were  highly  alarming, 
and  their  diseases  probably  mortal,  and  then  sit  down  and  con- 
18 


206  MEMOIR  OF 

verse  on  trifling  subjects,  with  an  air  of  quiet  indifference  or 
levity,  what  would  be  their  inference  from  his  conduct  ?  Would 
they  not  unavoidably  conclude,  either  that  he  did  not  really 
consider  their  situation  as  dangerous,  or  that  he  was  grossly 
deficient  in  sensibility,  and  in  a  proper  regard  to  their  feelings  1 
So  if  our  impenitent  hearers  see  us,  after  solemnly  assuring 
them  from  the  pulpit,  that  they  are  children  of  disobedience, 
children  of  wrath,  and  momentarily  exposed  to  the  most  awful 
punishment,  mingling  in  their  society  with  an  apparent  uncon- 
sciousness of  their  perilous  situation;  conversing  with  earnest- 
ness on  secular  affairs ;  and  seldom  or  never  introducing  topics 
strictly  religious,  or  embracing  private  opportunities  to  warn 
them  of  their  danger, — what  must  they  suppose  ?  If  they  re- 
flect at  all,  must  they  not  unavoidably  conclude,  either  that  we 
do  not  believe  their  situation  to  be  such  as  we  have  represented 
it,  or  that  we  are  totally  devoid,  not  only  of  benevolence,  com- 
passion, and  religious  sensibility,  but  even  of  the  common 
feelings  of  humanity  ?  It  is  needless  to  remark,  that  either 
conclusion  would  be  far  from  producing  favorable  ideas  of  our 
sincerity,  or  ministerial  faithfulness.  If,  then,  we  wish  that 
such  ideas  should  be  entertained  by  our  people,  we  must  con- 
vince them  by  our  conduct,  that  we  never  forget  our  character, 
our  duty,  or  their  situation. 

"  The  conviction  of  our  cordial  belief  of  the  truths  v/e  deliv- 
er, which  such  a  discharge  of  the  ministerial  duty  will  produce 
in  the  minds  of  our  hearers,  must  be  seated  and  maintained 
by  a  corresponding  life.  Unaccompanied  with  this,  all  other 
means  will  be  in  vain.  *  Example,'  says  a  French  prelate,  *  is 
the  groundwork  of  a  minister's  character.'  *  In  vain,'  he 
adds,  *  do  we  preach  to  our  hearers.  Our  life,  of  which  they 
are  witnesses,  is,  with  the  generality  of  men,  the  gospel.  It  is 
not  what  we  declare  in  the  house  of  God,  it  is  what  they  see 
us  practise  in  our  general  demeanor.'  If,  then,  we  would 
maintain  a  conviction  among  our  hearers,  that  we  are  sincere, 
our  conduct,  as  well  as  our  sermons,  must  preach ;  and  if  the 
former  contradicts,  or  does  not  coincide  with  the  latter,  no  good 
effects  can  be  reasonably  expected  to  follow.  We  must,  there- 
fore, be  able,  though  we  may  not  think  proper,  to  say,  with  the 
apostle,  "  Be  ye  followers  of  me,  even  as  I  am  of  Christ.  The 
things  which  ye  have  received,  and  learned,  and  heard,  and 
seen  in  me,  do,  and  the  God  of  peace  shall  be  with  you."  If, 
says  archbishop  Usher  to  his  clergy,  *  if  practical  Christian 
piety,  benevolence,  and  self  government,  with  constant  zeal  to 
promote  them  all  upon  earth,  are  not  the  first  and  chief  quali- 
ties, which  your  parishioners  and  acquaintance  will  ascribe  to 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  207 

you ;  if  they  will  speak  of  you  as  noted  on  other  accounts,  but 
pass  over  these  articles  in  silence,  and,  when  asked  about  them, 
be  at  a  loss  what  to  say,  excepting,  possibly,  that  they  know 
no  harm  of  you,  all  is  not  right ;  nor  can  such  a  clergy  answer 
the  design  of  its  institution  any  where,  nor  even  maintain  its 
ground  in  a  country  of  freedom  and  learning.'  God  grant  that 
the  clergy  of  this  country  may  never,  by  evincing  the  want  of 
these  qualities,  frustrate  the  all-important  end  of  their  ministry, 
nor  render  it  impossible  for  them  to  maintain  their  ground 
against  the  assaults  of  error,  vice,  and  infidelity." 

Had  this  description  of  the  "  good  minister  of  Jesus  Christ" 
been  drawn  by  another  hand,  the  familiar  acquaintances  of  Dr. 
Payson  might  well  have  supposed  that  himself  sat  for  the  pic- 
ture ;  so  accurately  did  the  grand  features  of  his  ministerial 
character  correspond  with  this  delineation.  Here  is,  unques- 
tionably, the  standard  of  excellence  which  he  had  prescribed 
to  himself,  and  at  which  his  aims  were  continually  directed. 
And,  whatever  might  have  been  the  degree  of  those  deficien- 
cies, which  he  so  frequently  and  so  pathetically  laments,  as 
to  the  spirit  and  temper  with  which  he  discharged  his  official 
duties,  it  is  doubted  whether  the  most  scrutinizing  observer 
was  ever  able  to  detect  in  his  practice  any  material  variation 
from  this  standard.  Often  did  his  clear  exhibitions  of  truth, 
and  his  full  and  plain  exposures  of  the.obliquities  of  men,  prove 
the  occasion  of  bitter  and  outrageous  feelings  in  the  bosoms  of 
many ;  but  rarely,  indeed,  could  the  individual  be  found,  who 
ventured  to  express  a  doubt  of  his  honesty  and  sincerity.  He 
was  always  in  earnest,  and  "  commended  himself  to  every 
man's  conscience  in  the  sight  of  God." 


^y^  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  pastor  in  action — Methods  of  exciting^  sustaining  and 
extending  a  due  interest  in  religious  concerns — Preaching, 
admijiistration  of  ordinances,  church  fast,  conference,  in- 
quiry meetings. 

Although  most  of  the  preceding  chapter,  if  changed  from 
the  didactic  form  to  that  of  narration,  would,  for  the  extent  to 
which  it  reaches,  present  a  true  history  of  its  author,  yet  there 
are  other  details  from  his  own  pen,  interspersed  throughout  his 
familiar  correspondence,  which  will  be  found  scarcely  less  in- 
structive, and,  at  the  same  time,  exhibit  a  fuller  developement 
of  the  nature,  extent,  and  variety  of  his  pastoral  labors.  We 
shall  commence  our  extracts  with  a  letter  written  in  1812,  to  a 
young  clergyman,  then  recently  settled  in  the  ministry,  who 
had  sought  his  instruction  and  advice  on  the  subject  of  pastoral 
duties.  It  has  already  been  stated,  that  Mr.  Payson  was  now 
the  sole  pastor  of  the  church  ;  and  it  was  in  this  year  that  thir- 
ty-one of  its  members  were  separated  from  it,  and,  by  a  distinct 
organization,  constituted  the  "  Chapel  Congregational  Church  in 
Portland,"  over  which  Mr.  Kellogg  was  placed  as  pastor.  The 
vacancy  hereby  created  was  more  than  filled — forty-eight  per- 
sons being  added  to  the  church  within  the  same  year.  It  was 
distinguished  beyond  former  years  for  ''  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit." 

''Dear  Brother, 

^'  Your  letter  requesting  *  information  and  advice,'  has  just 
reached  me.  I  rejoice  in  the  circumstances  that  led  to  such  a 
request.  I  rejoice  still  more  that  you  feel  "  ignorant,  and  in- 
experienced, and  inadequate  to  the  charge  which  has  devolved 
upon  you."  We  must  feel  so,  or  we  shall  meet  with  little 
success. 

"  I  can,  however,  assure  you,  for  your  encouragement,  that 
you  cannot  possibly  be  more  ignorant  and  inexperienced  than 
I  was  at  the  time  of  my  settlement.  I  knew  just  nothing  at 
all  of  my  business ;  but  I  knew  a  little,  O  how  little !  of  my 
own  ignorance.  This  led  me  to  pray  almost  incessantly  ;  and, 
somehow  or  other,  I  have,  as  I  trust,  been  preserved  from  fatal 
mistakes,  and  not  suffered  to  ruin  either  myself  or  my  people, 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  209 

as  I  sometimes  feared  that  I  should.  He  who  has  thus  guided 
me,  and  thousands  of  others  equally  foolish,  will,  I  trust,  guide 
you. — The  best  advice  I  can  give  you,  is,  to  look  to  Him.  This 
I  doubt  not  you  do ;  but  you  cannot  do  it  too  much.  If  we 
would  do  much  for  God,  we  must  ask  much  of  God ;  we  must 
be  men  of  prayer  ;  we  must,  almost  literally,  pray  without  ceas- 
ing. You  have  doubtless  met  with  Luther's  remark — "  Three 
things  make  a  divine — prayer,  meditation,  and  temptation." 
My  dear  brother,  I  cannot  insist  on  this  too  much.  Prayer  is 
the  first  thing,  the  second  thing,  and  the  third  thing  necessary 
for  a  minister,  especially  in  seasons  of  revival.  The  longer 
you  live  in  the  ministry,  the  more  deeply,  I  am  persuaded,  you 
will  be  convinced  of  this.  Pray  then,  my  dear  brother,  pray, 
pray,  pray.  Read  the  account  of  Solomon's  choice,  1  Kings, 
iii.  5 — 15.  If,  like  him,  you  choose  wisdom,  and  pray  for  it, 
it  will  be  yours. 

''  The  next  thing  in  importance  is,  as  I  conceive,  that  your 
church  should  be  excited  to  pray  for  the  influences  of  the  Di- 
vine Spirit ;  and  that  they  should  frequently  meet  for  this  pur- 
pose. For,  though  private  prayer  may  be  as  effectual,  it  does 
not  so  directly  tend  to  honor  God,  as  that  which  is  more  pub- 
lic. God  converts  sinners  for  his  own  glory,  and  he  will  have 
all  the  glory  of  their  conversion.  Nothing  tends  more  directly 
to  give  him  the  glory,  than  social  prayer.  In  that  duty  we  ex- 
plicitly acknowledge,  not  only  to  him,  but  to  our  fellow-crea- 
tures, that  nothing  but  the  influences  of  his  Spirit  can  render 
any  means  effectual,  and  that  we  are  entirely  dependent  for 
those  influences  on  his  sovereign  will.  In  a  word,  we  ac- 
knowledge that,  in  the  conversion  of  sinners,  he  is  alJ,  and  we 
are  nothing. 

"  With  respect  to  those  who  are  awakened,  I  conceive  it  is 
our  duty  to  act  as  fellow-workers  with  the  Divine  Spirit ;  to 
insist  principally  on  those  truths  of  which  he  first  convinces 
them,  and  to  endeavor,  both  by  our  preaching  and  conversation, 
to  bring  them  to  the  same  point  to  which  he  aims  to  bring  them. 
This  point  is  complete  self-despair,  and  hope  in  Christ.  The 
former  is  a  pre-requisite  to  the  latter.  I  therefore  aim,  in  the 
first  place,  to  increase  their  convictions  of  sins,  especially  of 
the  great,  damning  sin  of  unbelief  If  they  ask.  What  shall  we 
do  ?  I  never  dare  give  them  any  other  answer  than  that  given 
by  Christ  and  his  apostles  :  "  Repent,  and  believe  the  gospel." 
I  insist  much  on  the  character  of  God ;  the  strictness,  extent 
and  spirituality  of  his  law ;  the  various  artifices,  deceptions, 
and  excuses  of  the  heart ;  the  false  hopes  of  sinners  and  hypo- 
crites ;  the  nature  of  true  and  false  conversion  :  and  the  great 
18* 


210  MEMOIR  OF 

danger  of  being  deceived.  I  also  frequently  warn  them  of  the 
dreadful  consequences  of  delaying  repentance,  grieving  the 
Spirit,  losing  their  convictions,  or  resting  on  false  hopes,  like 
the  stony  ground  hearers.  I  labor  especially  to  convince  them 
that  all  the  difficulties  which  oppose  their  salvation  lie  in  their 
own  hearts — that  Christ  is  willing  to  save  them — but  they  are 
unwilling  to  be  saved  in  his  way,  and  are,  therefore,  without 
excuse.  This  is  a  very  important  point.  I  have  seen  none 
go  back  who  appeared  to  be  truly  convinced  of  this.  In  ad- 
dition to  this,  I  say  much  of  the  glory,  beauty,  and  sufficiency 
of  Christ,  and  of  the  perfect  freeness  of  the  blessings  which 
he  offers,  and  endeavor  to  show  them  the  horrid  pride,  ingrat- 
itude, &>c.,  of  neglecting  to  accept  of  them.  These  are  some 
of  the  principal  subjects  on  which  I  preach  to  inquirers.  You 
will  easily  determine  what  are  the  most  proper  texts  from 
which  to  explain  and  enforce  them. 

"  With  respect  to  our  inquiry  meetings,  I  can  only  tell  you 
that  we  have  them  once  a  week,  afternoons  for  females,  even- 
ings for  males.  It  is  difficult  to  persuade  them  to  converse  as 
freely  as  might  be  wished.  You  will  find,  however,  as  your 
experience  increases,  that  it  is  of  little  consequence  whether 
they  say  much  or  not,  as  a  single  sentence, will  often  give  you 
as  perfect  a  view  of  their  character  and  feelings,  as  you  could 
acquire  from  the  longest  conversation.  But,  if  you  wish  them 
to  converse  with  you  with  freedom,  you  must  visit  them  at 
home.  Your  greatest  danger  will  be  in  comforting  them  too 
soon.  All  comfort  is  dangerous  till  they  surrender  uncondi- 
tionally to  the  sovereign  grace  of  God.  It  is  much  safer  to  err 
on  the  other  side." 

The  extract  which  follows  describes  the  origin  of  a  meeting 
that  was  long  continued,  and  signally  blessed : — 

"Nov.  U,  ISM. 
"  Three  weeks  since,  I  preached  to  the  young,  from  the 
words  of  Christ,  when  twelve  years  old — '  I  must  be  about  my 
Father's  business.'  At  the  close  of  the  sermon,  I  invited  all 
the  young  men,  who  were  fully  determined  to  engage  immedi- 
ately in  their  Father's  work,  to  meet  me  in  the  evening,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  told  them  I  was  not  confident  that  any  of 
them  would  come.  However,  about  forty  attended.  After 
stating  to  them  the  difficulties  and  temptations  they  would 
meet  with,  and  the  sacrifices  they  must  make  in  a  religious 
course,  I  advised  them  to  consider  of  it  a  fortnight,  and,  if 
they  still  felt  resolved  to  persevere,  to  meet  me  again.     About 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  211 

thirty  came  the  second  evening  ;  and,  though  I  cannot  calcu- 
late upon  all,  or  even  the  major  part  of  them,  becoming  Chris- 
tians, yet  I  hope  some  of  them  will." 

Two  or  three  times,  during  his  ministry,  he  adopted  what 
would  be  generally  regarded  as  bold  measures ;  and  they  would 
have  been  absolutely  rash  and  injurious,  had  they  not  origina- 
ted in  a  sincere  and  glowing  zeal  for  God,  and  the  eternal 
welfare  of  men.  It  would  be  hazardous  for  another  to  imitate 
him  herein,  without  some  portion  of  his  spirit.  Yet  who,  that 
estimates  the  worth  of  the  soul,  will  dare  to  censure  his  con- 
duct, or  say  that  the  importance  of  the  object  was  not,  at  least, 
commensurate  with  his  zeal  ? 

''Feb.  21,  1815. 
"  We  have  a  great  revival  commencing.  We  have  been 
expecting  it  some  time  ;  and,  a  few  weeks  since,  at  the  close 
of  a  suitable  sermon,  I  informed  the  congregation  that  I  be- 
lieved God  was  about  to  bless  us,  and  told  them  that  the  quar- 
terly fast  of  the  church  was  at  hand,  and  that,  if  they  would 
consent  to  unite  with  the  church  in  the  fast,  we  would  meet 
in  the  meeting-house,  instead  of  the  conference  room,  where 
we  usually  assemble  on  such  occasions.  At  the  same  time,  I 
invited  those  who  were  willing  to  meet  the  church  to  signify 
it  by  rising.  About  two  thirds  of  the  congregation  instantly 
rose.  It  was  a  most  solemn  scene.  The  church,  to  whom 
the  measure  was  altogether  unexpected,  were  almost  over- 
whelmed with  various  emotions,  and  scarcely  knew  whether 
to  be  glad  or  sorry,  to  hope  or  fear.  You  may  well  suppose 
that  the  interval  between  the  Sabbath  and  the  fast  was  a  trying 
season  to  me.  I  felt  that  I  had  completely  committed  myself — 
that  my  all  was  at  stake — that,  if  a  blessing  did  not  attend  the 
measure,  every  mouth  would  be  open  to  condemn  it ;  and 
it  seemed  as  if  I  could  hardly  survive  a  disappointment.  I 
should  not  have  taken  such  a  step,  had  I  not  believed  I  had 
sufficient  reason  for  trusting  that  God  would  bear  me  out  in 
it ;  and  I  thought  if  he  did  not  bear  me  out,  I  never  should 
again  know  what  to  expect — never  should  feel  confidence  to 
pray.  I  expected  severe  trials,  but  had  few  fears  of  the  event. 
The  trials  came,  but  they  did  not  come  in  the  way  that  I  ex- 
pected, and  therefore  I  was  surprised  and  overcome  by  them. 
The  day  of  the  fast  was  the  most  dreadful  day  of  my  life — the 
day  in  which  I  had  most  dreadful  proofs  of  more  than  diaboli- 
cal depravity  of  heart.  The  meeting-house  was  full,  but  things 
did  not  go  on  in  the  manner  I  had  hoped  and  expected.     I 


212  MEMOIR  OF 

thought  all  was  lost ;  and  I  now  wonder  that  I  lived  through  it 
— that  a  broken  heart,  as  Mr.  Newton  says  disappointed  pride 
and  madness  are  called,  was  not  the  consequence.  For  some 
days,  I  saw  and  heard  nothing  encouraging,  and  my  distress 
was  unabated  ;  but  at  the  next  inquiry  meeting,  I  found  more 
than  sixty  inquirers.  This  number,  within  a  week,  was  con- 
siderably increased,  and  eight  or  ten  have  obtained  comfort. — 
The  prospect  is  now  more  encouraging  than  it  has  been  since 
my  settlement." 

Below  is  an  incidental  mention  of  the  multiplicity  of  his 
labors,  from  which  may  be  inferred  the  despatch  with  which 
he  habitually  executed  his  appropriate  work  : — 

"  May  n,lS16. 
"  My  avocations  were  never  so  numerous.  I  have  two  ser- 
mons, which  I  wish,  if  possible,  to  prepare  for  the  press,  but 
fear  I  never  shall  find  time.  I  have  also  three  ordination  ser- 
mons to  preach  within  two  months,  sermons  before  two  mis- 
sionary societies  within  the  same  time,  and,  on  the  second 
Sabbath  in  July,  I  have  an  engagement  to  preach  in  Ports- 
mouth, before  the  managers  of  the  Female  Asylum.  Besides 
this,  I  preach  four  sermons,  and  attend  two  inquiry  meetings, 
weekly,  &/C.  &c.  Judge,  then,  whether  I  am  not  worn  out, 
and  whether  I  do  not  need  your  prayers  more  than  ever.  As 
to  a  revival,  my  wishes  for  it  are  not,  cannot,  be  too  strong,  if 
they  are  disinterested,  and  not  selfish.  Though  I  am  wearing 
myself  out,  it  is,  I  sometimes  fear,  rather  in  the  service  of  self 
than  in  the  service  of  God ;  and  this  reflection  imbitters  every 
thing  I  do.  It  would  be  heaven  to  labor  for  God,  but  it  is 
misery  to  labor  for  one's  self  As  to  the  slang  you  heard  about 
a  revelation,  I  need  not  tell  you  that  there  is  no  truth  in  it. 
However,  I  hope  the  Lord  has  some  people  yet  to  be  gathered 
in  here.  We  have  admitted  thirty-three  since  the  year  came 
in,  and  nine  stand  propounded  ;  the  number  of  inquirers  about 
one  hundred,  and  slowly  increasing." 

•'  April  13,  1820. 
"  We  have  some  encouraging  appearances,  as  we  have  often 
had  before,  but  nothing  decisive.  Last  Sabbath,  I  invited  the 
male  part  of  the  parish,  who  were  willing  to  be  considered  in- 
quirers after  religion,  to  meet  me  in  the  evening.  Between 
thirty  and  forty  attended,  but  I  fear  that  very  few  of  them  are 
deeply  impressed.  We  have  about  the  same  number  of  fe- 
males, who  are  in  a  similar  state :  and  it  seems,  as  it  has  for 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  213 

a  long  time,  that,  if  God  would  work  a  little  more  powerfully, 
there  would  be  a  great  revival.     But  I  desire  to  wait." 

''August  6,  1821. 

"  As  to  my  desires  for  a  revival,  I  have  not,  and  never  had, 
the  least  doubt  that  they  are  exceedingly  corrupt  and  sinful. 
A  thousand  wrong  motives  have  conspired  to  excite  them. 
Still  I  do  not  believe  that  my  desires  were  ever  half  so  strong 
as  they  ought  to  be  ;  nor  do  I  see  how  a  minister  can  help 
being  in  a  '  constant  fever,'  in  such  a  town  as  this,  where  his 
Master  is  dishonored,  and  souls  are  destroyed  in  so  m.any  ways. 
You  can  scarcely  conceive  how  many  things  occur,  almost 
daily,  to  distress  and  crush  me.  All  these  are  nothing,  when 
my  Master  is  with  me  ;  but,  when  he  is  absent,  I  am  of  all 
men  most  miserable.    But  now  he  is  with  me,  and  I  am  happy, 

"  We  have  just  set  up  a  meeting  on  a  new  plan.  Notes,  to 
this  effect,  are  put  into  a  box  at  the  door  : — 'A  member  of  this 
church  desires  prayers  for  the  conversion  of  a  husband,  a  child, 
a  parent,'  &.c.,  as  the  case  may  be.  These  notes  are  then 
read,  and  prayers  are  offered.  We  have  had  but  one  meeting; 
the  evening  was  rainy,  but  nearly  forty  notes  were  given  in, 
and  it  was  the  most  sole^m  meeting  we  have  had  for  a  long 
time.  Among  the  notes  w^e  two  from  persons  who  think 
they  were  deceived  when  they  made  a  profession  of  religion, 
desiring  prayers  that  they  may  be  truly  converted.  The 
church  has  also  had  a  day  of  thanksgiving,  lately,  to  acknowl- 
edge what  God  has  done  for  us,  and  it  was  a  comfortable  sea- 
son.— These  things  give  me  some  encouragement ;  but  we 
have  been  so  often  disappointed,  that  I  scarcely  dare  to  hope." 

A  letter  to  a  young  clergyman,  written  soon  after  the  pre- 
ceding extract,  contains  a  still  more  complete  sketch  of  his 
labors  at  this  time.  It  has  been  extensively  copied  by  the  re- 
ligious periodicals  of  the  country,  one  of  which  professes  to  be 
*  shocked  at  his  expressions  in  relation  to  revivals,'  as  indicat- 
ing *  that  temerity  which  would  rely  on  the  impotent  arm  of 
the  creature.'  If  his  language  is  susceptible  of  such  a  con- 
struction, it  most  unhappily  misrepresents  his  judgment  and 
his  heart.  For,  though  he  was  "  abundant  in  labors,"  no  man 
ever  ascribed  less  efficiency  to  means,  or  felt  more  entirely  his 
exclusive  dependence  upon  the  Holy  Spirit. 

''My  dear  Brother.  '^Portland,  Aug.  17,  1821. 

*'  I  have  just  received  your  kind  letter,  and  hope  it  has  done 
me  some  good.     I  thank  you  for  it,  though  the  perusal  of  it 


214  MEMOIR  OF 

has  given  me  much  pain.  It  is  evident  that  you  think  far 
more  favorably  of  me  than  I  deserve  ;  and  your  applying  to 
me  for  advice  shames  and  mortifies  me  exceedingly.  But  I 
dare  not  say  what  I  feel  on  this  subject,  lest  you  should  think 
me  humble,  which  is  far  enough  from  being  the  case.  Be- 
sides, you  wish  me  to  write  respecting  myself  and  my  labors, 
and  this  is  the  very  subject  on  which  I  am  most  unwilling  to 
write,  because  I  find  it  most  dangerous.  It  affords  an  oppor- 
tunity for  gratifying  an  accursed  spirit  of  self-seeking,  which 
has  ever  been  my  bane  and  torment,  and  which  insinuates  it- 
self into  every  thing  I  say  or  do.  I  know  not  that  I  haye  ever 
spoken  of  myself  without  furnishing  cause  for  sorrow  and 
shame.  How,  then,  can  I  write  as  you  request  me  to  do  ?  or 
what  can  I  say  that  will  be  of  any  service  to  you  ?  But  you 
will  reply  that  God  can  bless  the  feeblest  means.  True  ; 
and  therefore  I  will  write,  though  I  foresee  that  I  shall  smart 
for  it. 

"  You  ask  for  a  general  view  of  my  pastoral  labors,  method 
of  preaching,  &.c.  &/C.  Since  the  failure  of  my  health,  I 
preach  but  three  sermons  in  a  week — two  on  the  Sabbath, 
and  one  on  Thursday  evening.  On  that  evening  and  Sabbath 
morning,  I  preach  without  notes,  but  generally  form  a  skele- 
ton of  my  sermon.  I  should  like  to  write  more,  but  my  health 
will  not  permit ;  and  I  find  that,  when  any  good  is  done,  it  is 
my  extempore  sermons  which  do  it.  I  am  afraid  of  producing 
a  faith  which  stands  not  in  the  power  of  God,  but  in  the  wis- 
dom of  men,  and,  therefore,  make  as  little  use  as  possible  of 
human  arguments^  but  confine  myself  to  a  plain,  simple  exhi- 
bition of  divine  truth.  The  sword  of  the  Spirit  will  not  wound 
if  it  has  a  scabbard  on  it.  I  also  aim  to  preach  the  truths  of 
the  gospel  in  a  practical  and  experimental,  rather  than  a  dry 
and  speculative  manner.  In  preaching  to  professing  Chris- 
tians, I  endeavor  to  rouse  and  humble,  rather  than  to  comfort 
them  ;  for,  if  they  can  be  kept  humble,  comfort  will  follow  of 
course.  Besides,  I  do  not  suppose  that  Christians  need  as 
much  consolation  now  as  they  did  in  the  primitive  ages,  when 
exposed  to  persecution. 

"  Our  church  is  divided  into  seven  districts ;  the  members  of 
each  district  meet  for  prayer  and  conversation  once  a  month, 
and  the  brethren  residing  in  each  district  are  a  standing  com- 
mittee of  the  church,  for  that  district,  to  supply  the  wants  of  the 
poor,  and  bring  before  the  church,  in  due  form,  any  case  of 
discipline  which  may  occur. — We  have  a  monthly  meeting  of 
all  the  brethren  for  business,  a  church  conference  every  Tues- 
day evening,  a  prayer  meeting  on  Friday  evening,  a  monthly 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  215 

prayer  meeting  for  the  Sabbath  schools,  and  the  monthly 
union  concert  for  prayer.  We  have  also  an  inquiry  meeting 
for  males,  on  Sabbath  evening,  and  for  females,  on  Friday  a& 
ternoon. 

"  As  to  method  in  the  division  of  time,  I  have  none  ;  but  live 
altogether  extempore.  This  is  partly  owing  to  the  wretched 
state  of  my  health,  which  deprives  me  of  at  least  three  days  in 
every  week,  and  partly  to  continual  interruptions  from  visiters, 
whom  I  must  see.  I  knew  not  how  to  bear  this,  till  I  met 
with  the  following  maxim  of  an  eminent  minister :  *'TAe  man 
who  wants  me  is  the  man  I  want  J  ^ 

"  My  rule,  in  regard  to  visiting,  is  to  visit  as  much  as  time  and 
health  will  permit.  I  make  none  but  pastoral  visits.  I  gave 
my  people  to  understand,  when  I  was  settled,  that  they  must 
never  invite  me  to  dine  or  sup  when  they  did  not  wish  to  have 
the  conversation  turn  wholly  on  religious  subjects.  This  has 
saved  me  much  time  and  trouble. 

*'  The  books  which  I  have  found  most  useful  to  me  are  Ed- 
wards's Works,  Brainerd's  Life,  Newton's  Letters,  Owen's 
Treatise  on  Indwelling  Sin,  Mortification  of  Sin  in  Believers, 
and  the  130th  Psalm,  and  Thomas  a  Kempis's  Imitation  of 
Christ,  translated  by  Payne — for  Stanhope's  translation  I  think 
not  so  good.  If  you  have  not  seen  Thomas  a  Kempis,  I  beg 
you  to  procure  it.  Some  things  you  will  not  like ;  but,  for  spir- 
ituality and  weanedness  from  the  world,  I  know  of  nothing 
equal  to  it.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  include,  in  the  above  list, 
Baxter's  Reformed  Pastor,  and  Saint's  Rest. 

"  It  would  require  a  volume  to  detail  the  experiments  I  have 
made,  and  the  means  I  have  used  to  effect  a  revival  of  relig- 
ion ;  and,  after  it  was  written,  it  would  not  be  worth  reading. 
I  will,  however,  just  mention  what  we  are  doing  now.  We 
have  established  a  prayer  meeting  on  the  following  plan  : — 
Members  of  the  church,  and  others,  if  they  think  proper,  pre- 
sent notes  requesting  prayers  for  the  conversion  of  any  friend 
or  relative  for  whom  they  feel  anxious.  No  names  are  men- 
tioned. The  notes  are  placed  in  a  small  box  by  the  door,  and 
afterwards  handed  to  me  to  be  read.  We  have  had  two  meet- 
ings. They  were  uncommonly  solemn,  and  many  of  the  notes 
were  very  affecting.  One  was,  "  A  female  stranger  desires 
your  prayers  for  her  conversions^  Another,  "  One  of  the  so- 
ciety desires  your  prayers  for  the  conversion  of  her  husband 
and  herself'  Several  were  from  old  professors,  who  fear  that 
they  have  been  deceived,  and  a  great  number  from  husbands, 
wives,  and  parents,  desiring  prayers  for  their  partners,  chil- 
dren, &c.     When  we  came  to  spread  all  these  cases  before 


215  MEMOIR  OF 

God  as  the  only  Giver  of  good  things,  the  scene  was  awfully 
solemn  and  afTecting. 

*  *         *  # 

*^  I  think  with  you,  that  the  management  of  a  revival  is  a  very 
difficult  thing.  It  is,  I  believe,  a  subject  as  yet  but  very  imper- 
fectly understood.     At  least,  I  know  but  very  little  of  it. 

*'  I  think  I  can  conceive,  in  some  measure,  of  the  inconve- 
nience you  experience  in  consequence  of  the  great  extent  of 
your  parish.  It  must  be  exceedingly  difficult  to  collect  your 
church  together  as  often  as  you  would  wish,  and  to  perform 
ministerial  duties.  A  minister,  however,  who  has  but  a  small 
parish,  is  required  to  do  all  that  he  can,  and  you  are  required 
to  do  no  more.  Still  it  is  exceedingly  painful  to  see  many 
things  which  need  to  be  done,  but  which  we  cannot  find  time 
or  strength  to  do.  My  parish,  as  well  as  my  heart,  "^ry  much 
resembles  the  garden  of  the  sluggard ;  and,  what  is  worse,  I 
find  that  most  of  my  desires  for  the  melioration  of  both  pro- 
,ceed  either  from  pride,  or  vanity,  or  indolence.  I  look  at  the 
v/eeds  which  overspread  my  garden,  and  breathe  out  an  ear- 
nest wish  that  they  were  eradicated.  But  why  ?  What 
prompts  the  wish  ?  .  It  may  be  that  I  may  walk  out  and  say  to 
myself,  "  In  what  fine  order  is  my  garden  kept !"  This  is 
pride.  Or  it  may  be  that  my  neighbors  may  look  over  the 
wall,  and  say,  "  How  finely  your  garden  flourishes !"  This  is 
vanity.  Or  I  m,ay  wish  for  the  destruction  of  the  weeds  be- 
cause I  am  weary  of  pulling  them  up.  This  is  indolence. 
Yet  from  such  sources,  I  fear,  do  most  of  my  desires  for  per- 
sonal holiness,  and  for  the  progress  of  religion  in  my  society, 
proceed.     I  hope  and  trust  it  is  otherwise  with  you. 

"  As  I  write  with  perfect  freedom,  I  will  take  the  liberty  to 
mention  one  thing  more,  which,  if  I  always  attended  to  it, 
would,  I  believe,  be  highly  beneficial.  The  disciples,  we 
read,  "  returned  to  Jesus,  and  told  him  all  things,  both  what 
they  had  done  and  what  they  had  taught."  I  think,  that  if 
we  would,  every  evening,  come  to  our  Master's  feet,  and  tell 
him  where  we  have  been,  what  we  have  done,  what  we  have 
said,  and  what  were  the  motives  by  which  we  have  been  actu- 
ated, it  would  have  a  salutary  effect  upon  our  whole  conduct. 
While  reading  over  each  day's  page  of  life,  with  the  conscious- 
ness that  He  was  reading  it  with  us,  we  should  detect  many 
errors  and  defects,  which  would  otherwise  pass  unnoticed. 
Pardon  this  hint.     I  trust  you  do  not  need  it. 

"  I  have  written  a  long  letter,  and  yet,  I  fear,  said  nothing 
which  will  be  of  the  smallest  service  to  you.  But  you  must, 
as  our  kind  Master  does,  take  the  will  for  the  deed.     May  He 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  217 

fill  you  with  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  with  faith,  and  make  you  in- 
strumental of  adding  much  people  to  the  Lord.  So  prays  your 
sincere  friend." 

He  was  particularly  observant  of  current  events,  and  careful 
to  make  them  all  subservient  to  the  great  purposes  of  his  min- 
istry. By  these  his  exhortations  were  often  enforced ;  and 
hence  some  of  the  severest  reproofs  which  he  administered 
were  drawn.  At  the  close  of  public  worship,  one  Sabbath,  he 
gave  notice  that  the  different  churches  in  the  town  would  ob- 
serve the  following  Wednesday  as  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer 
for  divine  influences  ;  and,  after  mentioning  that  religious  ex- 
ercises would  be  attended  in  the  morning,  afternoon,  and 
evening,  he  observed  :  "  Should  any  be  disposed  to  ask,  with 
the  Phav'sees  of  old,  '  To  what  purpose  is  this  waste  of  time  V 
I  would  remind  them  of  the  attention  lately  bestowed  on  an 
earthly  benefactor.  One  united,  earnest  request  w^as  made 
to  him,  that  he  would  visit  tiiis  country,  for  which,  in  times  of 
trial,  he  had  sacrificed  ease  and  domestic  comfort,  and  hazard- 
ed his  life  and  treasure.  He  acceded  to  the  invitation  of  a 
grateful  people  ;  he  has  visited  i/ou.  You  spared  neither  time 
nor  expense  to  give  him  an  honorable  reception.  And  have 
you  not,  my  friends,  a  Heavenly  Benefactor,  from  whom  you 
receive  every  good  and  perfect  gift  ?  a  Saviour,  who  has  given 
his  life  to  redeem  you  from  everlasting  bondage  and  misery  ? 
When  will  one  hearty,  united  request  arise  from  this  place, 
that  our  God  and  Redeemer  v/ill  visit  us?  And  should  he 
come,  would  he  be  welcomed  as  v/as  the  benefactor  just  allud- 
ed to  ?  It  is  true  that,  in  one  sense,  God  is  ever  present ;  but 
he  can  be  with  us  in  such  a  manner,  that  his  presence  will  bo 
felt,  and  the  effects  of  it  made  visible.  And  the  effects  of  his 
absence,  too,  may  be  seen,  while  no  cheering  rays  of  his  life- 
giving  Spirit  are  imparted.  And  shall  we  grudge  a  day,  to  be 
devoted  to  special  entreaty,  that  he  would  come  in  the  chariot 
of  his  salvation,  from  conquering  to  conquer  ?  that  he  would 
make  us  glad  with  the  light  of  his  countenance  ?  Was  one 
day  too  short  for  all  the  acknowledgments  which  we  were 
desirous  to  make  to  our  nation's  friend  ?  and  is  it  too  long  to 
be  devoted  to  him  who  is  the  Redeemer  of  the  world,  from 
whom  Cometh  our  salvation,  and  whose  favor  is  immortal  life  V 

Among  his  various  methods  of  drawing  attention  to  the  sub- 
ject of  religion,  and  impressing  the  mind  with  its  importance, 
the  following  is,  perhaps,  worthy  of  preservation,  for  the  prac- 
tical hint  which  it  conveys  : — 
19 


218  MEMOIR  OF 

"  Once,  in  the  course  of  my  ministry,  I  made  an  analysis  of 
all  the  sermons  which  I  had  preached  to  my  people  for  six 
months,  and  imbodied  it  in  one  sermon,  and  preached  it  to 
them.  They  were  astonished,  and  I  was  astonished,  at  the 
amount  of  truth  which  had  been  presented  to  them,  and,  to 
human  appearance,  with  very  little  effect." — How  descriptive 
of  his  constant  solicitude,  and  of  the  various  exertions  to  which 
it  prompted  him,  are  the  lines  of  the  poet : — 

^'  And  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries 
To  tempt  its  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies, 
He  tried  each  art,  reproved  each  dull  delay, 
Allured  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the  way." 

It  would  be  matter  for  lamentation,  if  the  preceding  state- 
ments of  insulated  facts  should  be  so  interpreted  as  to  convey 
to  strangers  an  impression  altogether  erroneous  respecting 
Dr.  Payson's  general  manner  of  exercising  the  ministry.  He 
was  a  stanch  friend  to  the  "  good  old  way,"  and  generally 
adhered  to  it  in  the  discharge  of  ministerial  duties  :  his  devia- 
tions were  circumstantial.  He  differed  from  others  in  the 
zeal  and  earnestness  with  which  he  prosecuted  the  ordinary 
routine  of  clerical  services,  more  than  in  the  novelty  and  ex- 
travagance of  his  measures.  The  new  aspect  which  his  so- 
ciety assumed,  in  consequence  of  the  blessing  of  God  upon  his 
faithful  and  zealous  labors,  required  meetings  and  exercises 
of  a  specific  character,  and,  of  course,  some  addition  to  their 
number.  To  render  these  in  the  highest  degree  subservient 
to  the  spiritual  good  of  his  charge,  was  his  uniform  aim,  in  the 
pursuit  of  which  he  made  the  most  felicitous  use  of  every  prov- 
idential event  and  every  noticeable  fact  in  the  circumstances 
of  his  people,  as  a  means  of  enforcing  truths  and  duties  of  im- 
mediate and  indispensable  importance.  His  very  few  direct 
deviations  from  the  regular  course,  particularly  calling  upon 
the  congregation  to  rise,  though  adopted  from  a  full  convic- 
tion, at  the  time,  that  the  crisis  demanded  them,  seem  to  have 
been  viewed  by  him  afterwards  as  of  rather  questionable  expe- 
diency, as  is  evident  from  the  apology  which  the  reader  has 
already  seen,  under  date  of  Feb.  21,  1815,  and  from  an  allu- 
sion yet  to  be  seen,  in  his  diary,  where  he  characterizes  them 
as  "  extraordinary,  and  perhaps  imprudent  measures."  A  fre- 
quent resort  to  them  he  most  certainly  would  not  justify ;  for 
he  makes  their  defence  to  rest  on  the  extraordinary  circum- 
stances of  the  case,  and  on  the  fact  that  he  adopted  them  "  af- 
ter much  prayer  for  direction."  It  should  be  remembered, 
too,  that  he  was  the  established  pastor,  that  he  stood  high  in 
the  affections  and  confidence  of  his  people,  who  had  witnessed 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  219 

the  rapid  growth  of  his  extraordinary  piety,  for  a  period  of  eight 
or  ten  years,  without  having  discovered  a  single  circumstance 
to  discredit  its  reality  or  strength.  They  knew  him  to  be  a 
man  of  great  simplicity  of  purpose,  who  did  nothing  for  stage 
effect ;  and  whatever  might  be  their  judgment  of  particular 
acts,  they  were  sure  he  watched  for  their  souls  as  one  that 
must  give  account,  and  was  not  accustomed  to  *  say  a  v/ord 
to  sinners,  except  when  he  had  a  broken  heart  himself.' 
These  and  other  circumstances,  which  might  be  mentioned, 
distinguish  his  measures  from  those  of  the  mere  temporary  or 
itinerant  preacher,  and  afford,  at  most,  but  a  very  dubious 
sanction  to  the  wilder  tendencies  of  some  more  recent  evan- 
gelists. 

The  feelings  which  prompted  and  sustained  his  restless  ac- 
tivity for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  salvation  of  men,  very  fre- 
quently disclose  themselves  in  his  correspondence  and  diary : — 

''December  26,  1S21. 

*'  I  do  not  think  you  understand  my  feelings  about  a  revival. 
Unless  I  am  very  much  deceived,  I  have  no  controversy  with 
God  respecting  it.  But  ought  a  minister  to  feel  easy  while 
his  people  are  perishing,  and  Christians  are  dishonoring  their 
Master  ?  Did  not  Paul  feel  great  heaviness,  and  continual 
sorrow  of  heart,  for  his  countrymen  ?  All  the  joy  and  grati- 
tude he  felt,  in  view  of  what  God  had  done  for  him  and  by 
him,  could  not  remove  that  sorrow.  And  the  prophet  would 
weep  day  and  night  for  the  daughter  of  his  people.  Instead 
of  feeling  less,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  ought  to  feel  more,  and  to 
have  no  rest.  But  I  do  not  murmur  at  God's  dealings.  I 
only  wonder  that  he  ever  did  any  thing  for  me  or  by  me  ;  and 
that  he  has  not,  long  since,  cast  me  out  of  his  vineyard.  As 
to  the  bed-ridden  female  you  mention,  I  see  nothing  very 
wonderful  in  her  rejoicing  and  gratitude.  Well  may  she  re- 
joice and  be  grateful  when  she  is  filled  full  of  divine  consola- 
tion. She  has  outward  trials,  it  is  true ;  but  what  are  they, 
when  Christ  is  present  ?  Who  wants  candles  when  he  has 
the  sun  ?  Give  me  her  consolations,  and  I  will  sing  as  loud 
as  she  does.  And  let  her  have  my  showers  of  fiery  darts,  and 
my  other  trials,  and,  unless  I  am  much  mistaken,  she  will 
groan  as  much  as  I  do.  I  have  seen  very  young  Christians 
terribly  afflicted  by  bodily  pain  and  sickness,  for  months  to- 
gether, and  all  the  time  full  of  joy  and  thankfulness  ;  and  I 
have  seen  the  same  persons  afterwards,  when  they  were  sur- 
rounded by  temporal  mercies,  show  very  little  of  either. — 
Things  seem  to  be  a  little  on  the  mending  hand;  and  the 


220  MEMOIR  OF 

church  are  again  beginning  to  hope  for  a  revival.  Last  Sab- 
bath was  an  uncommonly  solemn  day." 

'^  Aug.  20,  1823. 

"  It  has  been,  and  still  is,  a  season  of  spiritual  deadness 
among  us.  I  have  preached  so  plainly,  especially  to  the 
church,  that  I  feared  they  would  not  bear  it,  and  that  we 
should  come  to  an  open  rupture.  However,  they  have  borne 
it  very  well,  and  there  seems  now  to  be  more  of  a  disposition 
among  them  to  make  exertion ;  but  it  is  impossible  to  say  what 
the  result  will  be. 

"  If  you  have  not  written  to lately,  it  v/ould   be  well 

to  cheer  him  with  a  letter.  Poor  man  !  he  seems  to  be  just 
entering  on  Newton's  second  stage,  the  characteristic  of  which, 
you  recollect,  is  conflict.  However,  I  trust  he  will  be  carried 
safely  through.  I  wish,  with  all  my  heart,  that  Satan  would 
fight  against  the  peace  of  some  of  our  church  more  than  he 
does  ;  but  he  is  too  cunning  to  do  that.  He  sees  that  they 
are  slumbering,  and  he  will  take  care  not  to  wake  them.  You 
can  scarcely  form  an  idea  how  soporific  the  air  of  a  seaport 
is,  nor  of  the  irresistible  force  with  which  the  world  assails 
Christians  in  such  a  place  as  this.  The  moment  they  step  out 
of  doors,  it  rushes  in  at  their  eyes  and  ears,  in  ten  thousand 
shapes,  so  that,  unless  their  hearts  are  pre-occupied  with  better 
things,  they  are  filled  with  it  in  a  moment. — By  turns  I  expos- 
tulate, and  plead,  and  warn,  and  threaten,  and  weep,  and  pray, 
and  sometimes  almost  scold,  but  all  in  vain.  The  world  drags 
away  its  victims,  and  laughs  my  feeble  efforts  to  scorn." 

''Dec.  5,  1823. 
^^  A  few  weeks  since,  I  set  up  a  Bible  class  for  young  per- 
sons over  fourteen  years  of  age.  About  two  hundred  and  fifty 
attend,  and  some  of  them  appear  interested  ;  but  none  are 
-awakened  as  yet.  However,  God  must  have  some  chosen 
ones  among  the  rising  generation,  and  he  will,  sooner  or  later, 
bring  them  in  ;  but  I  fear  that  all,  or  nearly  all,  who  have 
passed  the  meridian  of  life — I  mean  in  my  society — are  given 
over  to  final  hardness  of  heart." 

"Jan.  SI,  1824. 
"  Yesterday  was  our  quarterly  fast,  and  I  pursued  a  new 
method.  I  first  confessed  my  own  sins  to  the  church,  asked 
their  forgiveness,  and  then  requested  them  to  unite  with  me 
in  praying  that  God  would  forgive  me,  and  ordain  me  afresh 
as  their  pastor.     I  then,  having,  as  I  hope,  cast  the  beam  out 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  221 

of  my  own  eye,  proceeded  to  take  the  mote  out  of  the  eye  of 
my  brethren.  I  first  called  upon  the  deacons  to  follow  my 
example,  if  they  thought  proper,  by  confessing  their  sins,  and 
appointing  one  of  their  number  to  lead  in  prayer,  that  they 
might  be  forgiven.  A  similar  call  was  then  made  upon  the 
brethren,  and,  after  that,  upon  the  sisters,  for  whom  I  acted 
as  mouth.  A  great  deal  was  said,  which  I  cannot  write,  but 
for  want  of  which  you  will  not  fully  understand  our  method 
of  proceeding,  nor  all  the  reasons  of  it.  It  must  suffice  to  say, 
that  we  attempted  to  obey,  on  a  large  scale,  the  exhortation 
of  James, — *  Confess  your  faults  one  to  another,  and  pray  for 
one  another,  that  ye  may  be  healed.'  I  cannot  but  hope  that 
it  will  prove  to  have  been  a  profitable  season,  and  that  a  bless- 
ing will  follow  it." 

"  May  2,  1825. 

''  I  returned  last  week  on  Wednesday,  preached  a  prepara- 
tory lecture  on  Thursday,  attended  the  church  quarterly  fast 
on  Friday,  prepared  for  the  Sabbath  on  Saturday,  and,  yester- 
day, preached  twice,  administered  the  sacrament,  and  address- 
ed and  prayed  with  the  baptized  youth.  The  consequence  is 
that  I  am  only  half  alive  this  morning.  L.  and  a  young  lady 
who  boards  with  us  were  very  much  affected  by  the  address 
to  baptized  youth.  They  wept  all  the  last  evening,  and  ap- 
pear very  solemn  this  morning  ;  but  L.  has  so  often  been  af- 
fected in  a  similar  manner,  that  I  dare  not  promise  myself 
much  from  present  appearances.  It  is,  however,  evident  that 
the  Holy  Spirit  is  constantly  striving  with  her ;  she  is  never 
perfectly  at  ease  ;  and  1  cannot  but  hope  she  will,  ere  long, 
become  a  subject  of  grace. 

"  In  a  religious  view,  things  remain  with  us  very  much  as 
they  have  been,  though  I  think  the  church,  or  some  of  them, 
at  least,  are  becoming  more  alive  than  they  were. — I  have 
lately  had  some  delightful  meditations  on  the  priesthood  of 
Christ.  I  was  led  to  them  by  thinking  how  a  penitent  Israel- 
ite must  have  regarded  his  high  priest.  We  may  consider 
such  a  man  as  saying — '  I  am  a  miserable,  polluted  sinner. 
I  cannot  enter  the  holy  place  where  God  dwells,  but  am  kept 
at  a  distance.  I  cannot  burn  incense  acceptably,  cannot  be 
permitted  even  to  offer  my  own  sacrifice.  But  I  have  a  high 
priest,  appointed  and  consecrated  by  God,  who  is  permitted  to 
approach  him  on  my  behalf  He  carries  my  name,  or  the 
name  of  my  tribe,  on  his  breast-plate.  He  offers  sacrifice /br 
me  ;  he  burns  incense  for  me  ;  he  enters  the  most  holy  place, 
and  sprinkles  atoning  blood  for  me.  In  him  I  am  accepted, 
19* 


222  MEMOIR  OF 

and  in  him  will  I  glory.  Take  away  my  high  priest,  and  you 
take  away  my  all ;  but,  while  I  have  him,  while  he  is  accept- 
ed in  my  behalf,  I  will  exult  and  rejoice.'  And  with  how 
much  more  reason  may  the  Christian  triumph  and  glory  in 
his  Great  High  Priest,  and  rejoice  that  he  is  '  accepted  in  the 
Beloved.'  I  do  not  mention  these  thoughts  as  any  thing  new, 
but  as  thoughts  which  have  been  peculiarly  sweet  and  precious 
to  me  of  late.  Yet,  alas  !  I  am  continually  seeking  to  be  my 
own  high  priest,  to  find  something  in  myself,  for  the  sake  of 
which  I  may  be  accepted,  at  least  in  part.  How  happy  are 
you,  my  dear  mother,  to  have  gotten  almost  through  this  wea- 
risome, terrible  conflict  !  Your  trials  and  sufferings  are  al- 
most ended,  and  the  blessed  fruit  of  them  is  all  to  come." 

These  extracts  furnish  specimens  of  his  zeal,  and  his  vari- 
ous methods  of  exerting  himself  for  the  promotion  of  religion 
at  different  periods  of  his  ministry  ;  but  it  would  be  doing 
him  great  injustice  to  leave  any  room  for  the  inference  that 
the  intervals  between  these  dates  were  seasons  of  relaxation 
or  indolence.  Such  seasons  he  never  allowed  himself  His 
labors  were  never  suspended,  unless  physical  debility  rendered 
the  prosecution  of  them  impossible.  His  religion  was  not 
intermittent.  With  him  time  was  a  precious  talent,  and  he 
"  paid  no  moment  but  in  purchase  of  its  worth."  He  would 
not  willingly  suffer  an  hour  to  pass  away  without  some  effort 
for  the  recovery  of  lost  sinners.  Whatever  were  the  declen- 
sion of  those  around  him,  his  ardor  in  religion,  and  his  exer- 
tions for  its  advancement,  suffered  no  visible  abatement.  On 
e  contrary,  the  darkest  times  were  those  in  which  he  was 
ninently  "jealous  for  the  Lord  of  hosts,"  a  living  witness  to 
the  power  of  divine  grace,  and  a  living  reproof  to  such  as  '  had 
gone  away  backward.'  When  he  saw  his  fellovv^  men  indiffer- 
ent to  their  own  salvation — when  he  saw  "  reigning  crime  and 
hastening  death" — it  was  "  a  spectacle  which  made"  his  heart 
ache,  and  "  his  eyes  weep."  He  expostulated,  he  warned,  he 
entreated,  he  mourned  in  secret  places,  he  "ran  between  the 
dead  and  the  living,"  and  earnestly  interceded  with  God  to 
interpose  for  their  salvation.  He  could  "  not  hold  his  peace, 
nor  take  rest,"  when  Zion  was  in  affliction,  and  'none  coming 
to  the  solemn  feast.' '  As  it  respects  the  progress  of  the  Re- 
deemer's cause,  he  seemed  always  to  glow  with  the  spirit  and 
feelings  which  most  are  accustomed  to  regard  as  a  privilege 
peculiar  to  a  time  of  general  revival.  These  feelings  must 
have  been  subject  to  some  inequalities  even  in  him  ;  but  they 
seem  never  to  have  sunk  to  a  point  which  was  not  above  the 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  223 

Standard  of  attainment  with  ordinary  men  in  their  most  favor- 
ed seasons.  He  was,  indeed,  often  discouraged  with  respect 
to  himself  and  his  own  personal  prospects ;  but,  if  he  ever 
suffered  any  declension  in  zeal  for  the  glory  of  God,  in  the 
salvation  of  others,  it  was  of  such  temporary  duration  as  to 
produce  no  perceptible  effect  on  his  use  of  means.  If  there 
v/as  a  time,  during  his  whole  ministry,  when  he  was  not  ar- 
dently desirous,  and,  to  the  extent  of  his  ability,  actively  labo- 
rious, for  the  conversion  of  sinners,  the  fact  was  not  observa- 
ble by  his  people,  nor  even  by  his  most  intimate  friends. 

He  loved  his  work  :  when  not  exhausted  by  fatigue,  or  de- 
pressed by  illness,  he  was  specially  fond  of  the  exercise  of 
preaching — so  much  so,  that  he  considered  it  no  favor  for  a 
way-faring  brother  to  offer  to  supply  his  place,  gratuitously,  on 
a  Sabbath.  He  felt,  to  use  his  own  comparison,  about  as 
much  obligation  for  such  an  offer,  as  he  should  to  a  man  for 
proposing  to  eat  up  a  good  dinner,  prepared  for  himself,  when 
he  was  half  starved.  In  preparing  for  the  pulpit,  it  was  his  in- 
variable object  to  introduce  so  much  of  the  grand  truths  of  the 
gospel  into  every  discourse,  that  a  person  who  had  never  heard 
a  sermon  before,  and  should  never  hear  another,  might  learn 
from  it  what  was  essential  to  salvation.  While  his  sermons 
generally  bore  this  uniform  feature,  they  were  endlessly  vari- 
ous in  other  respects.  He  seldom  selected  a  text  without  ref- 
erence to  the  known  circumstances  of  his  church  and  congre- 
gation ;  and  so  wakeful  and  diligent  was  he,  "  to  kngw  the 
state  of  his  flock,"  that  he  scarcely  ever  failed  in  the  adapta- 
tion of  his  subject.  So  dexterously  did  he  wield  the  sword  of 
the  Spirit,  and  so  fully  and  accurately  discern  and  expose  "the 
thoughts  and  intents  of  the  heart,"  that,  to  this  day,  there  are 
those  who  believe  he  obtained  his  information  concerning  them 
from  eaves-droppers  and  "  old  women." 

But,  among  all  his  services  in  the  house  of  God,  none, 
perhaps,  were  more  signally  blessed  than  his  exercises  at  the 
communion  table.  Uniformly,  this  ordinance  was,  in  a  high 
degree,  refreshing  to  his  own  spirit.  Hither  he  delighted  to 
come  and  quench  his  thirst  for  the  water  of  life.  Here  he 
met  the  Saviour,  "  who  bore  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the 
tree,"  and  v/ho,  "  having  himself  suffered,  being  tempted, 
knoweth  how  to  succor  them  that  are  tempted."  For  him  the 
crucified  Son  of  God  had  incomparable  attractions.  He  saw 
in  Christ  that  kind,  sympathizing,  all-powerful  High  Priest, 
who  was  suited  to  the  wants  of  which  he  felt  so  deeply  con- 
scious. And  he  always  came  to  this  sacred  feast  with  a  soul 
full  of  tenderness,  and  dwelt  on  the  love  of  a  suffering  Saviour 


224  MEMOIR  OF 

with  a  pathos  that  was  irresistible.  Here,  in  an  unrivalled 
degree,  his  *  heart  indited  good  matter,  and  his  tongue  was 
the  pen  of  a  ready  writer.'  "  Jesus  Christ  was,  indeed,  set 
forth  crucified  before  the  eyes"  of  the  admiring  communi- 
cants. His  person,  attributes,  and  offices,  as  the  Redeemer 
of  our  lost  race  ;  his  marvellous  compassion  in  dying  to  atone 
for  our  sins ;  his  intercession  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Father ; 
the  glories  and  terrors  of  his  second  coming, — -were  so  dis- 
tinctly and  affectingly  exhibited,  as  to  excite  the  correspond- 
ing emotions  in  all  hearts  which  were  not  harder  than  the 
nether  mill-stone.  Those  who  could  sympathize  with  the  ad- 
ministrator, while  contemplating  Christ  as  Mediator,  *  by  whom 
we  have  access  to  God,  and  redemption  through  his  blood, 
even  the  forgiveness  of  our  sins,  according  to  the  riches  of  his 
grace,'  felt  that,  in  sinning  against  Christ,  they  had  wounded 
their  best,  tenderest,  almighty  Friend.  And  O  how  hateful 
was  sin  made  to  appear  !  how  loathsome  !  how  heartily  was  it 
renounced  !  how  fervently  its  future  commission  deprecated  ! 
and  then  the  renewed  and  unreserved  dedication  of  soul  and 
body  to  God,  as  a  living,  holy,  acceptable,  and  reasonable 
sacrifice  !  "  How  sweet  and  awful  was  the  place,"  while  seal- 
ing their  vows,  and  Christ  his  pardons,  with  the  consecrated 
symbols  of  his  body  and  blood  !  How  precious  was  the  com- 
munion of  saints  with  Jesus,  and  with  one  another ! — To  hun- 
dreds have  these  sacred  scenes  been  earnests  of  the  heavenly 
inheritance.  And  the  interest  which  he  gave  to  the  occasion 
by  his  spirituality,  his  knowledge  of  the  heart,  of  the  Saviour, 
of  the  mysteries  of  redemption,  by  his  appropriate  and  impres- 
sive appeals,  usually  detained  a  great  number  who  were  not 
communicants.  The  spectators  were  as  numerous  as  the 
guests  ;  and  what  they  heard  and  witnessed  was  not  unfre- 
quently  the  means  of  conviction. 

This,  too,  was  his  chosen  occasion  to  impress  on  baptized 
youth  a  sense  of  their  obligations  to  devote  themselves  to  their 
God  and  Redeemer  ;  and  a  more  suitable  one  could  not  have 
been  selected.  There  are  many  who  will  remember  it  with 
everlasting  gratitude.  When  it  is  recollected  how  much  there 
is  in  this  scene  to  render  instructions  impressive  on  the  minds 
of  this  class  of  youth,  might  not  ministers  generally  take  a  val- 
uable hint  from  his  practice  ? 

The  church  fasts  and  conferences,  when  conducted  by  the 
pastor,  were,  next  to  those  of  the  communion,  the  most  hum- 
ble, melting,  edifying,  and  instructive  seasons  which  his  high- 
ly favored  flock  enjoyed.  Here  he  employed  his  faith,  his 
imagination,  and  the  various  resources  of  his  richly  furnished 


EDV^^ARD  PAYSON.  225 

mind,  to  show  them  their  actual  condition,  and  urge  them  for- 
ward in  their  Christian  course.  So  distinctly  and  clearly  could 
he  illustrate  the  different  degrees  of  Christian  attainment,  and 
mark  the  different  shades  and  varieties  of  religious  experience 
in  all  its  gradations,  from  the  babe  to  the  perfect  man  in 
Christ  Jesus,  that,  it  would  seem,  every  Christian  present  must 
have  known  his  precise  rank.  A  specimen  of  his  manner,  as 
near  as  can  be  recollected,  may  be  thus  stated  : — 

''  Suppose  professors  of  religion  to  be  ranged  in  different 
concentric  circles  around  Christ,  as  their  common  centre. 
Some  value  the  presence  of  their  Saviour  so  highly,  that  they 
cannot  bear  to  be  at  any  remove  from  him.  Even  their  work 
they  will  bring  up,  and  do  it  in  the  light  of  his  countenance ; 
and,  while  engaged  in  it,  will  be  seen  constantly  raising  their 
eyes  to  him,  as  if  fearful  of  losing  one  beam  of  Iws  light.  Otii- 
ers,  who,  to  be  sure,  would  not  be  content  to  live  out  of  his 
presence,  are  yet  less  wholly  absorbed  by  it  than  these,  and 
may  be  seen  a  little  farther  off,  engaged  here  and  there  in  their 
various  callings,  their  eyes  generally  upon  their  work,  but  often 
looking  up  for  the  light  which  they  love.  A  third  class,  be- 
yond these,  but  yet  within  the  life-giving  rays,  includes  a  doubt- 
ful multitude,  many  of  w^hom  are  so  much  engaged  in  their 
worldly  schemes,  that  they  may  be  seen  standing  sideways  to 
Christ,  looking  mostly  the  other  way,  and  only  now  and  then 
turning  their  faces  towards  the  light.  And  yet  farther  out, 
amongst  the  last  scattered  rays,  so  distant  that  it  is  often  doubt- 
ful whether  they  come  at  all  within  their  influence,  is  a  mixed 
assemblage  of  busy  ones,  some  with  their  backs  wholly  turned 
upon  the  sun,  and  most  of  them  so  careful  and  troubled  about 
their  many  things,  as  to  spare  but  little  time  for  their  Saviour. 

"  The  reason  why  the  men  of  the  world  think  so  little  of 
Christ,  is,  they  do  not  look  at  him.  Their  backs  being  turned 
to  the  sun,  they  can  see  only  their  own  shadows;  and  are, 
therefore,  wholly  taken  up  with  themselves.  While  the  true 
disciple,  looking  only  upward,  sees  nothing  but  his  Saviour, 
and  learns  to  forget  himself" 

"  The  growth  of  grace  in  the  heart  may  be  compared  to  the 
process  of  polishing  metals.  First,  you  have  a  dark,  opaque 
substance,  neither  possessing  nor  reflecting  light.  Presently, 
as  the  polisher  plies  his  work,  you  will  see  here  and  there  a 
spark  darting  out ;  then  a  strong  light ;  till,  by  and  by,  it  sends 
back  a  perfect  image  of  the  sun  which  shines  upon  it.  So  the 
work  of  grace,  if  begun  in  our  hearts,  must  be  gradually  and 


226  MEMOIR  OF 

continually  going  on ;  and  it  will  not  be  completed,  till  the 
image  of  God  can  be  seen  perfectly  reflected  in  us." 

At  a  church  fast,  in  the  time  of  a  revival,  he  mentioned,  as 
dangers  to  be  guarded  against,  and  as  causes  of  the  suspension 
of  divine  influences, — 

1.  ^'  Christians,  in  times  of  refreshing  from  the  presence 
of  the  Lord,  are  apt  to  be  so  much  taken  up  in  conversing  and 
laboring  with  sinners,  that,  from  concern  for  the  souls  of  oth- 
ers, they  neglect  their  own  spiritual  interests.  This  may  do 
very  well  for  a  time,  but  in  the  end  will  be  productive  of  much 
evil.  I  do  not  mean  to  dissuade  you  from  laboring  for  the 
good  of  others,  but  to  warn  you  to  take  care  of  your  own  souls. 

2.  "  Christians  are  in  danger,  when  a  revival  has  continu- 
ed for  some  time,  of  praying  less  for  its  continuance,  and  of 
being  less  thankful  for  it.  They  seem  to  take  it  for  granted, 
that  it  will  go  on,  as  a  matter  of  course ;  their  prayers  grow 
less  frequent  and  fervent,  and  their  gratitude  less  lively,  until, 
at  length,  a  case  of  conversion,  which  would,  at  first,  have 
electrified  the  whole  church,  produces  scarcely  any  sensation 
at  all.  Now,  when  this  is  the  case,  a  revival  will  certainly 
cease;  for  God  never  continues  to  bestow  spiritual  favors 
where  they  are  not  felt  to  be  such. 

3.  "  Another  reason  why  revivals  do  not  continue  longer, 
is,  that  there  is  so  much  animal  excitement  mixed  with  them. 
It  is  a  law  of  our  nature,  that  the  duration  of  merely  animal 
feelings  should  be  in  inverse  proportion  to  their  strength. 
These  are  no  part  of  spirituality  and  holiness ;  for  the  more 
holy  we  are,  the  less  we  shall  have  of  them.  Our  Saviour  had 
none  of  these  feelings.  Strive  to  repress  animal  feeling,  and 
to  be  more  purely  spiritual."  , 

"  We  read  that  Nadab  and  Abihu,  on  the  day  of  their  con- 
secration to  the  priesthood,  instead  of  taking  holy  fire,  with 
wjiich  to  burn  incense,  took  strange,  that  is,  common  fire,  and 
were  punished  by  immediate  death  for  their  presumption.  To 
us  this  may  appear  a  slight  offence.  We  may  think  one  fire 
equally  good  with  another.  But  our  God  is  a  jealous  God,  and 
we  must  make  our  offerings  in  the  manner  he  has  commanded, 
and  with  a  right  spirit,  or  they  will  be  an  offence  in  his  sight, 
and  he  will  not  accept  them." 

Mr.  Payson  was  never  more  happy  than  when  guiding  in- 
quirers to  *'  the  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  227 

world.' ^  Some  of  the  "  similitudes,"  by  which  he  endeavored 
to  illustrate  the  nature  of  experimental  religion,  and  assist  in- 
quirers in  judging  of  the  character  of  their  own  exercises,  have 
been  preserved  in  the  memory  of  several  of  his  later  converts, 
and  will  not  be  unwelcome  to  any  class  of  readers.  They  do 
not  profess  to  be  reported  in  precisely  his  language,  and,  on 
this  account,  due  allowance  must  be  made.  Much  of  their 
original  force  and  appositeness  is  doubtless  lost. 

^*  Suppose  a  number  of  persons  standing  by  a  river's  side. 
They  are  invited  to  drink  of  its  waters,  but  they  are  not  thirsty, 
and,  therefore,  do  not  desire  them.  At  length  their  thirst  is 
excited,  and  they  look  round  for  a  vessel,  with  which  to  take 
up  some  water.  But  their  vessels  are  all  filled  with  some 
worthless  thing,  which  they  are  as  yet  unwilling  to  part  with. 
But,  as  their  thirst  increases,  they  become  willing  to  relmquish 
what  they  had  thought  of  so  much  value,  and,  finally,  emptying 
their  vessels  of  this  rubbish,  and  recAing  the  water,  they 
quench  their  thirst.  Thus  it  is  with  sinners  :  Jesus  Christ  in- 
vites them  to  come  to  him,  the  Fountain  of  living  waters.  But 
they  decline  his  invitations — their  hearts  being  filled  with  the 
treasures  of  earth.  They  do  not  thirst  for  Christ  till  God 
takes  away  the  love  of  this  world  and  its  vanities,  and  the 
Holy  Spirit  fills  them  with  desire  to  come  to  him.  Then  they 
hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness,  and  are  prepared  to  re- 
ceive Christ." 

"  Were  a  man  suddenly  precipitated  into  the  sea,  and,  after 
making  ineffectual  struggles  to  save  himself,  to  give  up  all  for 
lost — should  he  at  this  crisis  perceive  a  boat  approaching,  and 
a  friendly  hand  extended  for  his  rescue,  he  would,  at  first, 
scarcely  credit  his  senses,  or  realize  that  he  was  safe ;  his  joy 
would  be  so  great,  and  his  gratitude  to  his  preserver  so  ardent. 
But  after  the  first  transports  had  subsided,  he  would  feel  more 
real  pleasure  in  contemplating  the  vessel,  in  admiring  the  wis- 
dom apparent  in  its  construction,  and  its  admirable  adapted- 
ness  for  saving  from  death  all  who  were  in  his  late  situation, 
than  he  would  when  he  viewed  it  merely  as  the  means  of  sa- 
ving his  own  life.  So  the  sinner,  when  first  he  finds  himself 
rescued  from  destruction,  is  full  of  love  to  Christ  for  his  pecu- 
liar and  unmerited  mercy  to  himself  But  as  he  increases  in 
knov/ledge  and  Christian  attainments,  has  clearer  views  of  the 
character  of  God,  and  the  wisdom  and  grace  which  appear  in 
the  plan  of  redemption,  his  love  has  less  and  less  of  selfishness," 


228  MEMOIR  OF 

'^  Suppose  two  persons  equally  desirous  to  gain  your  affec- 
tions— one  far  distant,  and  not  expecting  to  see  you  for  a  long 
time ;  the  other  always  present  with  you,  and  at  liberty  to  use 
all  means  to  win  your  love,  able  to  flatter  and  gratify  you  in  a 
thousand  ways.  Still  you  prefer  the  absent  one  ;  and,  that  you 
may  keep  him  in  remembrance,  you  often  retire  by  yourself  to 
think  of  his  love  to  you,  and  view  again  and  again  the  memen- 
tos of  his  affection,  to  read  his  letters,  and  pour  out  your  heart 
in  return.  Such  is  now  your  case  ;  the  world  is  always  before 
you,  to  flatter,  promise,  and  please.  But  if  you  really  prefer  to 
love  God,  you  will  fix  your  thoughts  on  him,  often  retire  for 
meditation  and  prayer,  and  recount  the  pleasant  gifts  of  his 
providence,  and  especially  his  infinite  mercy  to  your  soul ;  you 
will  read  frequently  his  holy  Word,  which  is  the  letter  he  has 
sent  you,  as  really  as  if  it  were  directed  to  you  by  name.'' 

**  Religion  is  the  m)lden  chain,  which  God  lets  down  from 
heaven,  v/ith  a  linkjlr  every  person  in  this  room,  inviting  each 
to  take  hold,  that  you  may  be  drawn  by  it  to  himself  You 
can  readily  perceive  how  disagreeable  it  would  be  to  be  link- 
ed to  one  whom  you  disliked,  and  drawn  by  him  whitherso- 
ever he  wills  ;  but  you  would  gladly  be  drawn  and  guided  in 
every  thing  by  the  person  whom  you  ardently  loved.  There 
is  this  difference  between  the  Christian  and  the  sinner.  How- 
ever reluctant  and  full  of  hatred,  still  the  sinner  is  controlled 
by  God ;  the  Christian  is  equally  in  his  hands,  but  is  drawn  by 
the  cords  of  love." 

"  Christ  said  to  Mary,  Fear  not ;  I  know  that  you  seek  Jesus. 
If  ye  really  seek  Jesus,  he  says  the  same  to  you.  Fear  not — 
death,  sorrow,  sickness,  any  thing.  If  they  are  thus  blessed, 
who  seek  Jesus,  what  must  those  be,  who  have  found  him  ?" 

To  an  inquirer,  who  complained  that  the  difliculties  in  his 
way  increased  rather  than  diminished,  he  said — "  You  might 
bind  a  bird  with  a  soft,  silken  cord,  and,  while  he  remains  still, 
he  will  not  be  sensible  of  his  confinement ;  but,  as  soon  as  he 
attempts  to  fly,  he  will  feel  the  cord  that  confines  him  ;  and 
the  greater  his  desire  and  his  efforts  to  escape,  the  more  sensi- 
ble will  he  be  of  his  bondage.  So  the  sinner  may  long  be 
a  slave  to  his  sins,  and  never  be  aware  of  it,  till  he  rises  to  go 
to  Christ." 

*^  Every  person  has  some  object  which  he  loves  supremely  ; 
and  in  every  unrenewed  man,  that  object  is  self     Suppose, 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  229 

for  illustration,  that  you  have  an  image,  which  is,  in  reality, 
extremely  ugly,  but  which  you  think  beautiful,  and  you  spend 
all  your  time  in  polishing  and  adorning  it.  At  length,  howev- 
er, you  begin  to  see  something  of  its  deformity,  but  endeavor 
to  conceal  it  from  others,  and,  if  possible,  from  yourself,  by 
painting  and  dressing  it.  Notwithstanding  all-  your  efforts,  it 
grows  more  and  more  ugly,  till  at  last,  in  despair  of  amending  it 
yourself,  you  pray  that  God  would  make  it  more  lovely.  It  is 
evident  in  this  case,  that  your  prayers  w^ould  not  proceed  from 
love  to  God,  but  from  love  to  your  idol ;  and,  therefore,  there 
would  be  no  goodness  in  them.  Suppose  that,  during  all  this 
time,  a  person  was  entreating  you  to  look  at  a  beautiful  dia- 
mond statue,  which  you  refused  to  do ;  until,  wearied  with 
useless  efforts  to  make  your  image  appear  more  beautiful,  you 
turn  and  look  at  the  statue.  Immediately  you  see  your  idol 
in  all  its  native  deformity  ;  you  cast  it  aside,  and  begin  to  ad- 
mire and  extol  the  statue.  This  idol  represents  self,  and  ev- 
ery unrenewed  person  admires  and  loves.it  supremely.  When 
his  conscience  is  awakened  to  see  something  of  his  sinfulness, 
he  first  endeavors  to  make  himself  better ;  and  it  is  lon^g  before 
he  finds  that  he  cannot  change  his  own  heart.  When  he  finds 
that,  notwithstanding  all  his  endeavors,  his  heart  seems  to  grow 
worse  and  worse,  he  prays  to  God  for  help.  It  is  not  from 
love  to  God,  or  because  God  has  commanded  it,  that  he  prays ; 
but  because  he  is  unwilling  to  see  himself  so  sinful ;  so  that 
his  prayers  arise  merely  from  pride  and  selfishness.  But  if  he 
will  only  turn  and  look  to  Christ,  he  sees  his  sins  in  a  new 
light,  and  no  longer  loves  himself  supremely ;  all  his  affections 
are  transferred  to  Christ.  He  then  prays  to  be  made  better, 
not  to  gratify  his  pride,  but  because  he  sees  something  of  the 
beauty  of  holiness,  and  longs  to  resemble  his  divine  Master." 

'^  Suppose  one  man  owes  another  a  thousand  pounds,  but  he 
is  unable  to  pay  the  debt,  and  denies  that  he  owes  it.  His 
creditor,  being  a  very  compassionate  man,  says  to  him,  "  I  do 
not  wish  for  your  money,  and  as  soon  as  you  will  own  the  debt 
to  be  a  just  one,  I  will  release  you  from  your  obligation  ;  but  I 
cannot  do  it  before,  for  that  would  be  in  fact  acknowledging 
that  I  am  in  the  wrong."  The  poor  man  refuses  to  confess 
that  he  owes  the  money,  and  is,  in  consequence,  sent  to  prison. 
After  remaining  there  for  a  time,  he  sends  his  creditor  word 
that  he  will  allow  he  owes  him  a  hundred  pounds.  But  that 
will  not  do.  After  another  interval,  he  says  he  will  allow  that 
he  owes  ttvo  hundred  pounds  ;  and  thus  he  keeps  gradually 
giving  up  a  little  more,  until  he  gets  to  nine  hundred ;  there 
20 


230  MEMOIR  OF 

he  stops  a  long  while.  At  length,  finding  there  is  no  other 
way  of  escape,  he  acknowledges  the  whole  debt,  and  is  releas- 
ed. Still  it  would  be  free,  unmerited  kindness  in  the  creditor, 
and  the  poor  man  would  have  no  right  to  say,  "  I  partly  deser- 
ved it,  because  I  owned  the  debt ;"  for  he  ought  to  have  done 
that,  whether  he  was  liberated  or  not.  Just  in  this  manner 
we  have  treated  God.  When  he  comes  and  charges  us  with 
having  broken  his  law,  we  deny  it ;  we  will  allow,  perhaps, 
that  we  deserve  a  slight  punishment,  but  not  all  which  God 
has  threatened.  But  if  we  are  ever  to  be  saved,  God  comes, 
and,  as  it  were,  shuts  us  up  in  prison ;  that  is,  he  awakens  our 
consciences,  and  sends  his  Spirit  to  convince  us  of  sin.  Thus 
we  every  day  see  more  and  more  of  the  desperate  wickedness 
of  our  hearts,  until  we  are  ready  to  allow  that  we  have  deserved 
eternal  condemnation.  As  soon  as  we  acknowledge  this,  God 
is  ready  to  pardon  us  ;  but  it  is  evident  that  we  do  not  deserve 
pardon,  that  he  is  not  under  the  least  obligation  to  bestow  it, 
and  that  all,  who  are  saved,  are  saved  through  free,  unmerited 
grace." 

"  One  excuse  which  awakened  sinners  are  accustomed  to 
allege  in  their  own  defence,  is,  that  they  wish  to  love  God,  and 
to  have  new  hearts,  but  cannot.  They  do  indeed  wish  to  be 
saved,  but  they  are  not  willing  to  be  saved  in  God's  way ;  that 
is,  they  are  not  willing  to  accept  salvation  as  a  free  gift.  They 
would  do  any  thing  to  buy  it,  but  v/il?  "lot  take  it  without  mon- 
ey and  without  price.  Suppose  that  you  were  very  sick,  and 
were  told  by  the  physician,  that  there  was  but  one  medicine  in 
the  world  which  could  save  your  life,  and  that  this  was  exceed- 
ingly precious.  You  were  also  told  that  there  was  but  one 
person  in  the  world  who  had  any  of  this  in  his  possession ;  and 
that,  although  he  was  willing  to  give  it  to  those  who  asked,  he 
would,  on  no  account,  sell  any.  Suppose  this  person  to  be 
one  whom  you  had  treated  with  great  neglect  and  contempt, 
injured  in  every  possible  way.  How  exceedingly  unwilling 
would  you  be  to  send  to  him  for  the  medicine  as  a  gift !  You 
would  rather  purchase  it  at  the  expense  of  your  whole  fortune. 
You  would  defer  sending  as  long  as  possible,  and,  when  you 
found  that  you  were  daily  growing  worse,  and  nothing  else 
could  save  you,  you  would  be  obliged,  however  reluctantly,  to 
send  and  ask  for  some.  Just  so  unwilling  are  sinners  to  apply  to 
God  for  salvation,  as  a  free  gift ;  and  they  will  not  do  it  until 
they  find  themselves  perishing,  and  that  there  is  no  other  hope 
for  them." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  231 

*'  The  young  convert,  in  judging  of  the  reality  of  his  conver- 
sion, generally  lays  much  stress  upon  having  a  great  deal  of 
joy ;  and  regards  that  as  a  very  decisive  proof  that  he  is  a  dis- 
ciple of  Christ.  But  this  is  one  of  the  most  fallacious  proofs, 
and  no  dependence  ought  to  be  placed  on  it.  It  is  not  desira- 
ble, at  first,  to  have  full  assurance  of  our  salvation,  for  our  love 
is  then  weak ;  and  some  degree  of  fear  is  likevi^ise  necessary  to 
keep  us  near  to  Christ." 

**  Suppose  a  child  accidentally  falls  into  a  pit,  and  when 
some  person  comes  to  help  him  out,  instead  of  thankfully  ac- 
cepting the  offer,  he  says,  "  No ;  I  will  not  have  you  to  help  me 
out ;  I  wish  som.e  one  else  to  assist  me."  He  is  told  by  his 
father,  that  he  shall  not  be  assisted  by  any  other  person.  Yet 
he  still  prefers  remaining  in  the  pit  to  accepting  that  person's 
offer.  Does  it  not  indicate  strong  aversion  to  him?  Yet  it  is 
precisely  thus  that  the  sinner  treats  Christ,  He  is  exposed  to 
danger,  from  which  none  but  Christ  can  deliver  him.  Yet, 
rather  than  accept  his  assistance,  he  tries  every  other  method 
again  and  again  ;  and  when  he  finds  ^11  his  efforts  unsuccess- 
ful, he  practically  says,  '  I  had  rather  perish  than  be  saved  by 
Christ.'  How  justly  might  the  Saviour  take  him  at  his  word, 
and  leave  him  to  perish !" 

*'  The  manner  in  which  people  obtain  a  false  hope  is  gener- 
ally this  :  they  first  believe  that  God  is  reconciled  to  them,  and 
then  are  reconciled  to  him  on  that  account ;  but  if  they  thought 
that  God  was  still  displeased  with,  and  determined  to  punish 
them,  they  would  find  their  enmity  to  him  revive.  On  the 
contrary,  the  Christian  is  reconciled  because  he  sees  the  holi- 
ness of  the  law  which  he  has  broken,  and  God's  justice  in  pun- 
ishing him ;  he  takes  part  with  God  against  himself,  cordially 
submits  to  him,  and  this  when  he  expects  condemnation.  He 
is  reconciled,  because  he  is  pleased  with  the  character  of  God  ; 
the  false  convert,  because  he  hopes  God  is  pleased  with  him." 

"  It  is  morally  impossible  for  God  to  pardon  sinners  without 
repentance.  The  moment  he  should  do  it,  he  would  cease  to 
be  a  perfectly  holy  being ;  of  course,  all  the  songs  of  heaven 
would  stop,  and  all  the  happiness  of  the  universe  be  dried  up. 
In  his  conduct,  he  is  governed  by  a  regard  to  the  good  of  the 
whole.  If  a  sovereign,  out  of  false  pity  to  criminals,  should 
pardon  them  indi^scriminately,  he  would  thus  destroy  the  hap- 
piness of  all  his  faithful  subjects,  and  introduce  misery  and 
confusion  into  his  kingdom.     But  infinitely  worse  consequen- 


232  MEMOIR  OF 

ces  would  ensue,  if  God  should  neglect  to  punish  those  who 
transgress  his  law.  His  vast  dominions  would  become  one 
universal  scene  of  anarchy  and  confusion ;  happiness  would  be 
banished  forever  ;  and  misery,  in  its  most  aggravated  forms, 
would  prevail  throughout  the  universe.  Yet  all  this  the  sinner 
would  think  ought  to  be  endured,  rather  than  that  he  should 
be  obliged  to  repent  of  his  sins." 

"  Young  converts  generally  suppose  that  it  is  their  strong 
faith,  which  enables  them  to  go  to  God,  and  ask  to  be  forgiven 
without  much  fear  or  hesitation ;  but  faith  has  less  to  do  with 
it  than  they  imagine.  It  is  because  they  see  little  of  their  own 
sinfulness  and  God's  hatred  of  sin.  If  they  had  clear  views  of 
these  truths,  they  would  find  their  weak  faith  very  insufficient 
to  induce  them  to  go  to  Christ.  Suppose  a  man,  who  had  nev- 
er seen  fire,  and  who  knew  its  effects  only  by  report,  should  be 
told  that  at  a  certain  distant  period,  he  would  be  obliged  to 
pass  through  a  fire.  He  is  told,  also,  that  there  is  but  one 
kind  of  garment  that  can  protect  him  from  its  influence.  A 
person  gives  him  this  robe,  and  although  it  appears  to  him  very 
thin  and  flimsy,  yet  he  feels  very  well  satisfied  with  it  before 
he  has  seen  the  fire.  But  when  the  destined  time  arrives,  and 
he  sees  the  fire  blazing  out  and  consuming  every  thing  within 
its  reach,  his  confidence  fails.  At  first,  a  small  degree  of  faith 
enables  the  Christian  to  go  to  God ;  but  as  he  advances  in  the 
knowledge  of  his  own  heart,  and  God's  hatred  of  sin,  his  faith 
must  also  be  increased,  to  enable  him  to  approach  his  heavenly 
Father  with  confidence,'^ 

"  The  young  convert  may  be  compared  to  a  child,  whom 
his  father  is  leading  over  a  rugged  and  uneven  path.  After 
proceeding  for  some  time  without  much  difficulty,  he  forgets 
that  it  has  been  owing  to  his  father's  assistance-r-begins  to 
think  that  he  may  now  venture  to  walk  by  himself,  and  conse- 
quently falls.  Humbled  and  dejected,  he  then  feels  his  own 
weakness,  and  clings  to  his  father  for  support.  Soon,  however, 
elated  with  his  progress,  he  again  forgets  the  kind  hand  which 
sustains  him,  fancies  he  needs  no  more  assistance,  and  again 
falls.  This  process  is  repeated  a  thousand  times  in  the  course 
of  the  Christian's  experience,  till  he  learns,  at  length,  that  his 
own  strength  is  perfect  weakness,  and  that  he  must  depend 
solely  on  his  heavenly  Father." 

"  To  assist  you  in  estimating  the  criminality  of  sin,  suppose 
that  you  had  committed  the  first  sin — that,  before  you  were 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  233 

born,  such  a  thing  had  never  been  heard  or  thought  of;  but 
that  all  beings  had  united  in  loving  and  serving  God,  till,  all 
at  once,  you  started  up,  and  began  to  disobey  his  commands. 
What  a  commotion  would  be  excited  !  Instantly  the  news 
would  spread  through  heaven  and  earth,  with  inconceivable 
rapidity,  and  all  ranks  and  orders  of  beings  would  join  in  ex- 
claiming, "  It  cannot  be  !  Where  is  the  wretch,  who  would 
dare  to  disobey  Jehovah?"  Suppose,  then,  that  you  were  obli- 
ged to  come  forward  and  stand  in  the  view  of  the  assembled 
universe  of  myriads  of  sinless  beings,  who  all  regarded  you 
with  feelings  of  astonishment,  horror,  detestation,  too  strong  for 
utterance.  How  inexpressibly  dreadful  would  sin  appear  in 
this  point  of  view  !  And  yet  it  is,  in  reality,  just  as  dreadful 
and  as  criminal  to  sin  now,  as  if  no  sin  had  ever  been  commit- 
ted by  another." 

"  The  difference  between  true  and  false  religion  may  be  thus 
illustrated.  Suppose  a  king  visits  two  families  of  his  subjects. 
The  members  of  one  think  it  great  condescension  in  him  to 
visit  them ;  they  show  him  every  possible  mark  of  affection  and 
respect,  and  they  are  filled  with  regret  and  unhappiness  at  his 
departure.  The  other  family  have  no  real  love  for  him  ;  and, 
though  self-interest  prompts  them  to  show  him  every  external 
mark  of  respect,  yet  it  is  constrained,  and  they  are  glad  when 
he  departs.  Now,  if  this  king  could  read  the  heart,  and  saw 
that  their  services  were  insincere,  he  could  not,  of  course,  be 
pleased ;  and  the  more  assiduous  they  were  in  their  attentions, 
if  prompted  wholly  by  self-interest,  the  more  would  he  be  dis- 
gusted. In  the  same  manner,  when  God,  by  his  Spirit,  visits 
the  true  Christian,  it  fills  him  with  joy  and  gladness ;  his  pres- 
ence is  life ;  and  when  he  hides  his  face,  nothing  can  afford 
pleasure  or  satisfaction.  But  when  thoughts  of  God  enter  the 
mind  of  the  sinner,  he  feels  uneasy,  and  tries  to  get  rid  of  them. 
He  may,  from  selfish  motives,  affect  to  seek  God  ;  but  his 
heart  is  not  in  it,  and  he  longs  after  the  pleasures  of  the  world. 
This  is  the  way  in  which  all  awakened,  yet  impenitent  sin- 
ners seek  God ;  and  yet  they  are  displeased  because  he  will  not 
accept  such  heartless  services." 

''  We  are  apt  to  feel  as  if,  by  our  prayers,  we  laid  God  under 
obligation  to  save  us ;  as  if  our  feeble,  imperfect  services  were 
"  profitable  to  him."  Suppose  a  poor  beggar  should  say  of 
some  rich  nobleman,  "  He  is  under  great  obligations  to  me ;" 
and,  when  asked,  "Why?" — should  answer,  '' I  have  been 
every  day,  for  a  great  many  years,  and  told  him  a  Ions:  story 
20  * 


234  MEMOIR  OF 

of  my  wants,  and  asked  him  to  help  me."  You  can  see  how 
absurd  this  appears ;  and  yet  it  is  precisely  similar  to  our  con- 
duct, except,  indeed,  that  ours  is  much  more  absurd,  because 
the  disparity  between  God  and  us  is  infinitely  greater  than 
can  exist  between  any  two  mortals." 

*^  When  sinners  have  been  awakened  to  see  their  guilt  and 
danger,  and  are  invited  to  come  to  Christ  and  be  saved,  they 
frequently  make  such  excuses  as  these — "  I  cannot  believe  that 
the  invitations  of  the  gospel  were  intended  for  such  sinners  as 
I  am  ;  I  am  afraid  I  do  not  feel  right,  and  that  Christ  will  not 
receive  me."  Suppose  a  table  set  in  the  street,  and  loaded 
with  all  kinds  of  food ;  and  that  a  herald  is  sent  to  make  proc- 
lamation, that  all  who  wish  may  come  and  partake  freely.  A 
poor  man  comes,  and  stands  looking  very  wishfully  at  the  table ; 
and,  when  he  is  asked  why  he  does  not  eat,  replies — "  O,  I  am 
afraid  the  invitation  is  not  meant  for  me  ;  I  am  not  fit."  Again 
he  is  assured  that  the  invitation  is  intended  for  all  those  who 
are  hungry,  and  that  no  other  qualification  is  necessary.  Still 
he  objects — '*  But  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  hungry  enough."  In 
the  same  way  do  sinners  deprive  themselves,  by  their  own  fol- 
ly, of  those  blessings  which  are  freely  offered  them  by  their 
Creator.' ' 

"  Suppose  the  rebellious  subjects  of  a  very  wise  and  good 
king  condemned  to  death.  The  king  has  a  son,  Vvho,  from 
compassion  to  these  poor  wTetches,  offers  to  make  satisfaction 
to  his  father  for  their  crimes,  if  he  will  pardon  them.  The 
king  consents  on  one  condition.  He  places  his  son  at  the  door 
of  his  palace,  and  makes  proclamation,  that  every  one  who 
comes  to  him  for  pardon,  and  is  led  in  by  his  son,  shall  be  for- 
given for  his  sake.  One  of  the  culprits  comes,  and,  rejecting 
the  proffered  hand  of  the  prince,  rushes  to  the  throne  himself. 
Can  this  man  expect  mercy  ?  Thus  God  has  provided  a  Me- 
diator, and  commanded  all  to  approach  in  his  name  ;  and  none 
can  expect  to  be  received,  who  do  not  come  to  God  in  this  ap- 
pointed way." 

''  One  mark  of  a  true  convert  is,  that  he  continues  to  repent 
of  his  sins,  after  he  hopes  that  they  are  pardoned.  All  that 
the  hypocrite  desires,  is  salvation  from  punishment ;  and  when 
he  thinks  this  end  secured,  he  feels  no  concern  respecting  his 
sins.  But  the  true  Christian  desires  to  be  saved  from  sin  ;  and 
his  hatred  of  sin,  and  repentance  for  it,  increase  in  proportion 
as  his  assurance  of  heaven  increases.     Another  mark  is,  that 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  235 

all  disposition  to  make  excuses  is  taken  away.  The  repen- 
tant sinner  feels  willing  to  lie  at  God's  feet,  and  confess  his 
sins,  without  even  wishing  to  excuse  them." 

"  It  evinces  more  depravity  not  to  repent  of  a  sin,  than  it 
does  to  commit  it  at  first.  A  good  man  may  be  hurried  away 
by  temptation  to  commit  a  sin,  but  he  will  invariably  repent  of 
it  afterwards.  To  deny,  as  Peter  did,  is  bad ;  but  not  to  weep 
bitterly  as  he  did,  when  we  have  denied,  is  worse." 

"  We  may  have  the  form  of  godliness  without  the  power  ; 
but  it  is  impossible  to  have  the  power  without  the  form." 

"  The  promises  in  the  Bible  to  prayer  are  not  made  to  one 
act,  but  to  the  continued  habit,  of  prayer." 


236  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  same  subject — Bible  class — Pastoral  visits — Social  parties 
— Special  and  casual  interviews — Charm  of  his  conversation 
— Singular  rencounter — Whence  his  competency — His  publi- 
cations. 

If  there  is  a  spectacle  on  earth  peculiarly  animating  to  the 
thoughtful  Christian,  who  waits  and  prays  for  the  salvation  of 
God,  it  is  tlie  faithful,  affectionate  pastor,  with  the  Bible  in  his 
hand,  surrounded  by  the  "  lambs  of  his  flock,"  and  leading 
them  into  "  green  pastures,  and  beside  the  still  waters."  It 
cannot  be  witnessed  without  a  thrill  of  unusual  delight,  and 
anticipations  of  the  most  cheering  character.  There  may  be 
more  of  immediate  personal  enjoyment  in  the  communion  of 
saints,  and  in  that  foretaste  of  an  eternal  feast,  which  is  grant- 
ed to  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord,  when,  gathered  around  the 
sacramental  board,  they  glory  in  the  cross,  and  celebrate  the 
love  of  Him  who  died  on  it,  and  their  faith  anticipates  the 
hour  when  they  "  shall  see  Him  as  he  is,"  and  come  to  the. 
heavenly  Zion,  and  commence  their  everlasting  song.  But  the 
same  principle,  which  causes  *'  joy  in  heaven  over  one  sinner 
that  repenteth,  more  than  over  ninety  and  nine  just  persons, 
who  need  no  repentance,"  is  eminently  a  principle  of  benevo- 
lence, which  is  gratified  with  every  prospect  of  increase  to  the 
"  great  multitude  whom  no  man  can  number  ;"  and  it  is  called 
into  action,  and  operates  with  no  ordinary  eifect,  in  view  of  a 
collection  of  youth,  grouped  around  their  beloved  spiritual 
teacher,  engaged  in  investigating  the  truths  of  the  Bible,  and 
ascertaining  the  duties  which  it  enjoins.  It  is  a  sight  full  of 
hope  and  promise.  It  is  not  presumption  to  expect  from  it  the 
choicest  spiritual  fruits  which  a  minister  is  ever  permitted  to 
reap.  It  is  among  this  class  of  his  charge,  that  he  may  emi- 
nently "  sow  in  hope."  The  promises  of  God  authorize  him 
to  expect  extensive  and  glorious  results.  It  was  upon  the 
youth  that  Mr.  Payson  expended  some  of  his  best  exertions ; 
and  these  labors  brought  him  a  "  harvest  of  golden  sheaves." 

His  heart  was  drawn  towards  the  rising  generation,  and 
meditated  various  expedients  for  advancing  their  welfare.  He 
does,  indeed,  record  and  lament,  among  his  deficiencies,  the 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  237 

neglect  of  special  efforts  for  their  instruction  and  salvation. 
But,  compared  with  what  had  been  the  ordinary  standard  of 
ministerial  practice,  he  abounded  in  works  of  this  description. 
Though,  from  the  first,  he  did  not  fail  to  give  them  appropri- 
ate instruction,  yet  it  was  not  till  the  latter  years  of  his  minis- 
try, that  the  interesting  group,  who  periodically  gathered 
around  him,  took  the  designation  of  Bible  class ;  and  at  that 
time  his  manner  underwent  a  slight  modification.  The  sub- 
joined specimens  were  furnished  by  young  persons,  to  v/hom 
they  were  blessed  : — 

"  A  way-faring  man  stops  at  a  tavern,  and,  to  beguile  the 
time  of  his  stay  there,  looks  round  for  some  book.  He  sees, 
perhaps,  a  newspaper,  an  almanac,  and  the  Bible ;  but  chooses 
to  pore  over  either  of  the  former,  in  preference  to  the  Word 
of  God, — thinking  it  hardly  possible  to  be  amused  or  interest- 
ed in  that.  Even  a  Christian  will  sometimes  do  thus. — This 
is  as  if  a  man  should  be  introduced  into  an  apartment,  in  one 
division  of  which  were  Jesus  Christ  and  his  apostles,  and  in 
the  other  the  most  dissolute  and  frivolous  company ;  and,  on 
being  invited  by  the  Saviour  to  sit  with  them  and  enjoy  their 
company,  should  refuse,  and  seat  himself  with  the  others. 
Would  not  this  be  a  most  gross  insult  to  the  Saviour  1  and  dg 
you  not  equally  undervalue  and  refuse  his  company,  when  you 
thus  neglect  and  despise  his  holy  Word, — through  which  he 
converses  with  you,  and  invites  you  near  to  himself, — and 
choose  some  foolish  production  instead  of  it  1" 

"  God  holds  out  to  you,  as  it  were,  a  thread,  no  stronger 
than  a  spider's  web,  and  says — '*  Take  hold  of  this  thread ;  I 
will  increase  its  strength,  day  by  day,  until  it  becomes  the  line 
of  salvation  to  you. — So  it  is  with  the  little  interest  you  feel  in 
the  Bible  class.  If  you  cherish  this,  if  you  reflect  upon  what 
you  read  and  hear,  and  daily  pray  to  be  made  wise  by  these 
instructions,  God  will  increase  your  interest  to  its  consumma- 
tion, till  you  become  perfect  ones  in  Christ  Jesus.  But  if  you 
lose  your  hold  on  this  thread,  you  are  lost." 

The  following  paragraph  illustrates  his  manner  of  stating 
the  argument,  and  its  application — the  subject  before  the  class 
being  the  evidence  from  the  light  of  nature,  that  there  is  a 
God  :— 

^'  Suppose,  my  young  friends,  that,  in  travelling  through  a 
wilderness,  a  spacious  garden  should  burst  upon  your  view,  in 


238  MEMOIR  OF 

the  midst  of  which  is  a  splendid  palace.  Upon  entering  it, 
you  perceive,  in  every  apartment,  proofs  of  the  agency  of  some 
living  person,  though  you  see  no  one.  Complicated  machine- 
ry is  moving,  and  various  operations  are  carried  on  ;  but  still 
the  agent,  who  produces  these  effects,  is  invisible.  Would  you 
be  the  less  convinced  that  they  were  produced  by  some  intelli- 
gent agent?  And  if  you  should  be  told,  that  the  palace  came 
there  by  chance,  and  that  all  the  movements  you  witnessed 
were  caused  by  no  power  whatever,  you  would  regard  him, 
who  should  tell  you  thus,  either  as  a  fool  or  a  liar.  Now,  you 
have  the  same  proof  of  the  existence  of  God  in  his  works,  that 
you  would  have,  in  the  case  I  have  supposed,  of  the  existence 
and  presence  of  some  invisible  agent ;  and  it  is  just  as  unrea- 
sonable to  doubt  of  his  existence,  as  it  would  be  to  doubt 
whether  the  palace  had  been  built  by  any  person,  or  was  only 
the  work  of  chance.  Suppose  you  were  informed,  by  a  writ- 
ing on  the  wall,  that  the  palace  was  inhabited  or  haunted  by 
spirits,  who  were  constantly  watching  your  conduct,  and  who 
had  power  to  punish  you,  if  it  displeased  them  ;  and  that  you 
were  also  informed,  at  the  same  time,  of  the  course  of  conduct 
which  it  would  be  necessary  to  pursue,  in  order  to  obtain  their 
approbation.  How  careful  would  you  be  to  observe  the  rules, 
sind  how  fearful  of  displeasing  these  powerful  spirits !  And  if 
you  were  further  informed,  that  these  were  the  spirits  of  your 
deceased  parents,  and  that  they  were  able  to  hear,  if  you  ad- 
dressed them, — how  delightful  it  would  be  to  go  and  tell  them 
of  your  wants  and  sorrows,  and  feel  sure  that  they  listened  to 
you  with  sympathy  and  compassion  ! — I  tell  you,  my  young 
friends,  this  world  is  haunted,  if  I  may  so  express  it, — haunt- 
ed by  the  Eternal  Spirit.  He  has  given  you  rules,  by  which 
to  regulate  your  conduct,  and  is  able  to  punish  every  deviation 
from  them.  And  can  you  recollect  that  such  a  Being  is  con- 
stantly noticing  your  conduct,  and  still  persist  in  disobeying 
his  commands  ?  God  is  also  your  Heavenly  Father  ;  and  why 
can  you  not  go  to  him,  as  such,  with  the  same  confidence 
which  you  would  exercise  in  an  earthly  parent?" 

In  explanation  of  the  command  to  glorify  God  : — "  It  may 
seem  strange  and  presumptuous,  to  speak  of  such  poor,  sinful, 
worthless  beings  as  we  are,  as  glorifying,  or  as  capable  of  glo- 
rifying God.  But  the  perfect  Christian  may  be  compared  to  a 
perfect  mirror,  which,  though  dark  and  opaque  of  itself,  being 
placed  before  the  sun,  reflects  his  whole  image,  and  may  be 
said  to  increase  his  glory,  by  increasing  and  scattering  his 
light.     In  this  view  we  may  regard  heaven,  where  God  is  per- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  239 

fectly  glorified  in  his  saints,  as  the  firmament  studded  with  ten 
thousand  times  ten  thousand,  and  thousands  of  thousands  of 
mirrors,  every  one  of  them  reflecting  a  perfect  image  of  God, 
the  Sun  in  the  centre,  and  filHng  the  universe  with  the  blaze 
of  his  glory.'' 

"  Whenever  you  feel  any  thing  within  you,  my  dear  young 
friends,  urging  you  to  attend  to  religion,  it  is  the  Spirit  of 
God ;  and  if  you  refuse  to  comply,  you  will  grieve  him  away. 
Suppose  God  should  let  down  from  heaven  a  number  of  very 
fine  cords,  and  if  any  person  should  take  hold  of  one,  it  would 
continue  to  grow  larger  and  stronger,  till  at  length  he  is  drawn 
by  it  into  heaven.  Great  care  would  be  necessary,  especially 
at  first,  not  to  break  it ;  for,  if  once  broken,  it  might  never  be 
renewed.  How  careful  should  we  expect  the  person  to  be,  to 
whom  one  of  these  cords  was  extended,  not  to  break  it,  to 
avoid  all  violence,  and  follow  wherever  it  led  him !  Just  so 
anxiously  ought  you  to  cherish  those  good  impressions,  which 
are  produced  on  your  minds  by  the  Spirit  of  God ;  for  if  you 
once  grieve  him,  he  may  never  return." 

"  Suppose  a  man  builds  a  temple,  with  one  seat  in  it  very 
high  and  much  ornamented  ;  and  another  very  far  below 
it.  You  ask  him,  for  whom  those  seats  are  designed,  and  he 
replies — "  Why,  the  most  elevated  one  is  for  me,  and  the  one 
below  it  is  for  God."  Now,  in  this  case,  you  can  all  see  the 
horrible  absurdity  and  impiety  of  such  conduct ;  and  yet  each 
of  you,  who  continues  impenitent,  is  doing  this.  You  have 
given  yourselves  the  first  place  in  your  affections  ;  you  have 
thought  more  of  yourselves  than  of  God,  and  have  done  more 
to  please  yourselves  than  to  please  God  ;  in  short,  you  have, 
in  every  thing,  preferred  yourselves  before  him." 

"  Suppose  there  was  a  book,  in  which  the  whole  of  your 
life  was  recorded,  each  page  of  which  contained  the  events  of 
a  day.  At  the  beginning  was  written,  "  This  is  the  life  of  a 
rational,  immortal,  accountable  creature,  placed  in  this  world 
to  prepare  for  eternity."  Then  commences  a  long  catalogue 
of  sins  ;  every  page  is  successively  covered  with  blots.  Be- 
sides all  these,  there  are  the  sins  of  omission,  or  duties  neg- 
lected, which  swell  to  a  still  greater  amount.  There  are  more 
than  fifty  commands  binding  upon  you  everf  moment ;  such 
as,  to  repent,  to  believe,  to  love  Christ,  to  watch,  pray,  &c., 
none  of  which  you  perform.  Thus  you  commit,  to  say  the 
least,  fifi;y  sins  in  a  moment.     Add  to  these  the  first  mention- 


240  MEMOIR  OF 

ed  class  of  transgressions,  and,  O,  what  an  amount  of  guilt 
does  the  record  of  each  day  present !  At  the  bottom  of  every 
page,  it  is  written — Did  this  person  love  God  to-day  ?  No. 
Did  he  feel  any  gratitude  for  mercies  ?  No.  Did  he  obey 
any  of  God's  commands?  No.  Did  he  perform  any  part  of 
the  work  for  which  he  was  created  ?     No." 

One  of  his  most  acceptable  methods  of  communicating  in- 
struction, and  exciting  a  religious  interest,  was  by  visits  to  the 
families  of  his  parishioners  ;  and,  though  he  speaks  of  himself 
as  living  extempore,  they  will  cheerfully  give  him  credit  for  sys- 
tem in  this  branch  of  duty.  It  was  a  custom  w^hich  he  com- 
menced almost  simultaneously  with  his  ministry,  to  give  notice 
from  the  pulpit,  that  the  families  in  a  particular  district,  or 
street,  might  expect  him  at  a  given  time,  in  the  course  of  the 
following  week,  and  to  request,  that,  if  consistent  with  their 
engagements,  they  w^ould  all  be  at  home  ;  he  wished  to  see 
the  family  together.  Accordingly,  when  he  entered  a  house, 
he  usually  found  all  in  readiness  for  his  reception,  and  could 
proceed,  without  the  loss  of  a  moment,  to  deliver  his  message. 
The  time  he  spent  in  a  family  did  not  usually  exceed  twenty 
or  thirty  minutes ;  but  it  was  completely  filled  up  with  relig- 
ious conversation  and  prayer.  He  could  say  much  in  a  short 
time,  and  never  failed  to  *  divide  a  portion  to  every  member' 
capable  of  receiving  it.  His  *^  often  infirmities"  compelled 
him  to  relinquish  this  practice,  and,  for  some  years  before  his 
death,  to  limit  his  visits  principally  to  houses  of  affliction.  But 
these,  in  a  parish  comprising  thousands  of  souls,  were,  neces- 
sarily, very  numerous. 

He  did  not  decline  occasional  invitations  to  evening  parties, 
as  he  had  given  his  people  to  understand,  that  he  desired  none 
to  send  for  him,  who  did  not  wish  him  to  come  as  a  minis- 
ter of  Christ.  In  this  character,  how^ever,  he  was  usually  a 
welcome  guest ;  for,  though  he  was  invariably  serious  and 
faithful,  he  was  neither  abrupt  nor  forbidding  in  his  manner 
of  bringing  forward  religious  topics.  The  divine  Model  he 
had  so  diligently  studied,  taught  him  how  to  avail  himself  of 
passing  observations  and  occurrences  to  introduce  and  enforce 
man's  obligation  to  attend  to  his  highest  interests.  He  always 
seized  the  right  moment  to  bring  forward  and  urge  his  Mas- 
ter's claims  ;  and  when  he  had  obtained  the  ground,  he  was 
certain  not  to  yield  it — indeed,  none  could  wish  to  dispossess 
him.  The  subject  which  he  so  naturally  and  easily  introduc- 
ed, he  would  expatiate  upon,  and  illustrate,  and  hold  the  lis- 
tening company  in  fixed   and  solemn  attention,  from  one  to 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  241 

three  hours.  Here  were  witnessed  some  of  the  most  enrap- 
turing and  powerful  strains  of  his  sacred  eloquence.  A  visit- 
ing party,  whose  conversation  was  conducted  by  him,  had  all 
the  advantage  of  a  religious  meeting  in  the  article  of  instruc- 
tion, and  fell  scarcely  short  in  solemnity.  To  him  it  was  of- 
ten as  laborious  as  a  public  lecture,  as  it  regards  both  prepara- 
tion and  the  exercise  of  speaking.  He  usually  commenced 
and  closed  the  interview  by  prayer. 

It  is  obvious  how  much  such  a  manner  of  conducting  social 
visits  must  tend  to  cultivate  and  cherish  a  religious  spirit  in 
society.  Every  one  has  observed,  that,  as  they  are  often  con- 
ducted, a  single  visit  supplies  matter  for  a  month's  gossip  and 
scandal — evils  which  infect  not  only  the  individuals  who  were 
present,  but  their  families  and  associates.  But  social  inter- 
course, conducted  on  Christian  principles,  precludes  these  and 
similar  evils,  besides  effecting  positive  good.  The  party  sepa- 
rate with  salutary  impressions  upon  their  minds,  and  carry 
more  or  less  of  a  holy  savor  into  their  respective  families. 
Religion  becomes  the  subject  of  domestic  conversation,  which 
is  rendered  more  intelligent  and  profitable  by  the  very  means 
which  too  frequently  operate  as  a  disqualification  for  the  duty. 
In  truth,  no  finite  mind  can  trace  all  the  happy  consequences 
Vv^hich  flow  from  the  habit  of  associating  religion  with  all  the 
intercourse  and  occurrences  of  life. 

That  it  was  a  leading  object  with  him  to  introduce  and  ex- 
tend this  habit  among  his  people,  appears  from  almost  every 
act  of  his  official  life.  It  accounts,  in  part,  for  his  remarkable 
circumspection,  and  unfailing  care,  to  set  an  example,  in  his 
own  person,  of  doing  all  things  to  the  glory  of  God.  It  was 
not  without  reference  to  this,  probably,  that  he  dedicated  his 
own  private  dwelling  to  God  ;  or  rather,  that,  when  he  did 
this,  he  called  in  some  of  his  neighbors  to  participate  in  the 
solemnities;  and  it  was  not  without  its  influence.  He  was 
cafled,  in  his  turn,  to  officiate  on  similar  occasions  for  them. 
A  scene  of  this  kind  is  still  recollected  with  lively  interest  by 
the  members  of  a  numerous  family.  In  his  prayer,  he  antici- 
pated almost  every  possible  circumstance  in  their  future  histo- 
ry with  that  reverent  particularity,  in  which  he  was,  perhaps, 
unrivalled  ;  and  in  such  select,  appropriate,  and  vivid  expres- 
sions, as  gave  the  very  walls  of  the  habitation  a  tongue  that 
has  not  since  ceased  to  speak.  The  thought,  that  it  is  a  con- 
secrated house,  is  suited  to  check  all  tendencies  to  sinful  levi- 
ty. One  of  the  events  anticipated  in  the  prayer  has  already 
taken  place  ;  and  the  children  of  the  family,  who  now  are  all 
members  of  the  visible  church,  could  tell  with  what  comforting 
21 


242  MEMOIR  OF 

and  sustaining  power  it  was  brought  home  to  their  hearts,  while 
surrounding  the  triumphant  death-bed  of  an  invaluable  mother. 

From  the  most  casual  interview  with  him,  the  Christian 
could  not  separate  without  being  instructed,  humbled,  and  revi- 
ved ;  nor  the  impenitent  sinner,  without  a  topic  for  reflection — 
perhaps  an  arrow  in  his  heart.  He  exemplified  one  of  his  own 
remarks — "  Our  unconverted  friends  should  feel  that  our  whole 
deportment,  and  even  our  very  silence,  declares  that  we  ear- 
nestly seek  their  salvation." 

A  circumstance  which  gave  to  his  company  one  of  its  most 
attractive  charms,  was  his  great  condescension  and  affability, 
which  entirely  relieved  the  interlocutors  of  all  embarrassment. 
No  matter  how  awkwardly  or  defectively  they  expressed  their 
difficulties,  or  proposed  their  queries — it  was  enough  for  him 
that  he  knew  their  meaning.  He  took  no  advantage  of  these 
defects,  to  mortify  them  and  show  off  his  own  superiority ;  he 
never  asked  them  to  repeat  and  ^^  define  precisely  what  they 
wanted," — a  chilling  practice  with  some  affectedly  wise  and 
accurate  men,  which  must  effectually  silence  the  weak  and 
illiterate,  and  cut  off  from  them  all  hope  of  improvement : — 
he  took  this  labor  upon  himself  If  he  perceived  them,  in 
danger  of  embarrassment,  he  would  interpose  and  help  them 
out.  The  most  broken  and  imperfect  expressions  were  suffi- 
cient to  indicate  to  him  the  exact  wants  and  feelings  of  the 
speaker.  So  truly  was  this  the  case,  that  his  knowledge  of 
others'  thoughts  would  appear  to  a  w^itness  almost  intuitive  ; 
and  he  was  equally  prompt  to  apply  the  appropriate  counsel. 
It  was  from  ignorance  of  his  power  of  perception,  in  this  re- 
spect, that  some  have  spoken  of  his  inquiry  meetings,  during 
the  latter  half  of  his  ministry,  as  more  properly  entitled  to  the 
appellation  of  lectures,  or  meetings  for  exhortation.  But  his 
remarks  were  as  really  predicated  on  the  known  states  of  mind 
in  the  assembly,  as  they  ever  are  in  any  inquiry  meeting,  how- 
ever conducted.  The  truth  is,  besides  watching  the  individ- 
ual characters  of  his  charge  for  years,  he  had  so  thoroughly 
studied  the  moral  and  spiritual  nature  of  man,  in  connexion 
with  the  Scriptures,  that  he  could  distinguish  the  symptoms 
which  indicate  the  state  of  the  heart,  with  as  much  readiness 
and  certainty,  as  the  most  skilful  physician  can  those  of  bod- 
ily disease. 

It  was  not  to  man  in  one  attitude  or  situation  only,  that  he 
could  adapt  himself,  but  to  men  in  all  situations,  and  of  every 
variety  of  rank  and  character,  and  every  degree  of  intellectual 
culture.  A  bereaved  husband,  in  another  town,  to  whom  he 
was  known  only  by  report,  but  whose  wife's  obsequies  he  prov- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  243 

identially  attended,  inquired,  some  time  after  the  funeral,  if 
Mr.  Payson  had  married  a  second  wife, — inferring,  from  his 
prayer,  that  he  knew,  experimentally,  the  feelings  inseparable 
from  a  state  of  widowhood. 

The  following  imperfectly  described  rencounter  with  a  law- 
yer of  Portland,  who  ranked  among  the  first  in  the  place  for 
wealth,  and  was  very  fluent  withal,  will  serve  to  show  Mr. 
Payson's  ihsight  into  character,  and  his  power  to  mould  it  to 
what  form  he  pleased,  and,  at  the  same  time,  prove,  what 
might  be  confirmed  by  many  other  instances,  that  his  con- 
quests were  not  confined  to  "  weak  women  and  children  :" — 

A  lady,  who  was  the  common  friend  of  Mrs.  Payson  and 
the  lawyer's  wife,  was  sojourning  in  the  family  of  the  latter. 
After  the  females  of  the  respective  families  had  interchanged 

several  **  calls,"  Mrs. was  desirous  of  receiving  a  formal 

visit  from  Mrs.  Payson  ;  but,  to  effect  this,  Mr.  Payson  must 
also  be  invited  ;  and  how  to  prevail  with  her  husband  to  ten- 
der an  invitation,  was  the  great  difficulty.  He  had  been  ac- 
customed to  associate  experimental  religion  with  meanness, 
and,  of  course,  felt  or  affected  great  contempt  for  Mr.  Payson, 
as  if  it  were  impossible  for  a  man  of  his  religion  to  be  also  a 
man  of  talents.  He  knew,  by  report,  something  of  Mr.  Pay- 
son's  practice  on  such  occasions,  and,  dreading  to  have  his 
house  the  scene  of  what  appeared  to  him  a  gloomy  interview, 
resisted  his  wife's  proposal  as  long  as  he  could  and  retain  the 
character  of  a  gentleman.  When  he  gave  his  consent,  it  was 
with  the  positive  determination  that  Mr.  Payson  should  not 
converse  on  religion,  nor  ask  a  blessing  over  his  food,  nor  offer 
a  prayer  in  his  house.  He  collected  his  forces,  and  made  his 
preparation,  in  conformity  with  this  purpose,  and,  when  the 
appointed  day  arrived,  received  his  guests  very  pleasantly,  and 
entered,  at  once,  into  animated  conversation,  determined,  by 
obtruding  his  own  favorite  topics,  to  forestall  the  divine.  It 
was  not  long  before  the  latter  discovered  his  object,  and  sum- 
moned together  his  powers  to  defeat  it.  He  plied  them  with 
that  skill  and  address  for  which  he  was  remarkable  ;  still, 
for  some  time,  victory  inclined  to  neither  side,  or  to  both  al- 
ternately.— The  lawyer,  not  long  before,  had  returned  from 
Washington  city,  where  he  had  spent  several  weeks  on  busi- 
ness at  the  supreme  court  of  the  United  States.  Mr.  Payson 
instituted  some  inquiries  respecting  sundry  personages  there, 
and,  among  others,  the  chaplain  of  the  house  of  representa- 
tives. The  counsellor  had  heard  him  perform  the  devotional 
services  in  that  assembly.  "  How  did  you  like  him  ?" — "  Not 
at  all ;  he  appeared  to  have  more  regard  to  those  around  him 


244  MEMOIR  OF 

than  he  did  to  his  Maker." — Mr.  Pay  son  was  very  happy  to 
see  him  recognise  the  distinction  between  praying  to  God  and 
praying  to  be  heard  of  men,  and  let  fall  a  series  of  weighty 
observations  on  prayer,  passing  into  a  strain  of  remark,  which, 
without  taking  the  form,  had  all  the  effect,  on  the  lawyer^s 
conscience,  of  a  personal  application.  From  a  topic  so  un- 
welcome, he  strove  to  divert  the  conversation,  and,  every  few 
minutes,  would  start  something  as  wide  from  it  as  the  east  is 
from  the  west.  But,  as  often  as  he  wandered,  his  guest  would 
dexterously,  and  without  violence,  bring  him  back  ;  and,  as 
often  as  he  was  brought  back,  he  would  wander  again.  At 
length  the  trying  moment  which  was  to  turn  the  scale  arrived. 
The  time  for  the  evening  repast  had  come  ;  a  servant  had  en- 
tered with  the  tea  and  its  accompaniments  ;  the  master  of  the 
feast  became  unusually  eloquent,  resolved  to  engross  the  con- 
versation, to  hear  no  question  or  reply,  to  allow  no  interval  for 
*^  grace,"  and  to  give  no  indication,  by  the  eye,  the  hand,  or 
the  lips,  that  he  expected  or  wished  for  such  a  service.  Just 
as  the  distribution  was  on  the  very  point  of  commencing,  Mr. 
Pay  son  interposed  the  question — "  What  writer  has  said  the 
devil  invented  the  fashion  of  carrying  round  tea,  to  prevent  a 
blessing  being  asked  ?" — Our  host  felt  himself  "  cornered  ;" 
but,  making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  promptly  replied — "  I  don't 
know  what  writer  it  is  ;  but,^if  you  please,  we  will  foil  the 
devil  this  time  : — Will  you  ask  a  blessing,  sir  ?" — A  blessing, 
of  course,  was  asked,  and  he  brooked,  as  well  as  he  could,  this 
first  certain  defeat,  still  resolved  not  to  sustain  another  by  the 
offering  of  thanks  on  closing  the  repast.  But  in  this,  too,  he 
was  disappointed.  By  some  well-timed  sentiment  of  his  rever- 
end guest,  he  was  brought  into  such  a  dilemma,  that  he  could 
not,  without  absolute  rudeness,  decline  asking  him  to  return 
thanks.  And  thus  he  contested  every  inch  of  his  ground,  till 
the  visit  terminated.  But,  at  every  stage,  the  minister  proved 
too  much  for  the  lawyer.  He  sustained  his  character  as  a 
minister  of  religion,  and  gained  his  point  in  every  thing  ;  and 
that,  too,  with  so  admirable  a  tact,  in  a  way  so  natural  and 
unconstrained,  and  with  such  respectful  deference  to  his  host, 
that  the  latter  could  not  be  displeased,  except  with  himself. 
Mr.  Payson  not  only  acknowledged  God  on  the  reception  of 
food,  but  read  the  Scriptures  and  prayed  before  separating  from 
the  family — and  did  it,  too,  at  the  request  of  the  master,  though 
this  request  was  made,  in  every  successive  instance,  in  viola- 
tion of  a  fixed  purpose.  The  chagrin  of  this  disappointment, 
however,  eventually  became  the  occasion  of  his  greatest  joy. 
His  mind  was  never  entirely  at  ease  till  he  found  peace  in 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  245 

believing.  Often  did  he  revert,  with  devout  thankfulness  to 
God,  to  the  visit  which  had  occasioned  his  mortification,  and 
ever  after  regarded,  with  more  than  common  veneration  and 
respect,  the  servant  of  God,  whom  he  had  once  despised,  and 
was  glad  to  receive  his  ministrations  in  exchange  for  those  on 
which  he  had  formerly  attended. 

His  knowledge  was  not,  as  many  have  supposed,  limited 
chiefly  to  theology.  He  was  familiar,  beyond  what  is  com- 
mon, with  the  whole  circle  of  the  sciences — so  much  so,  that 
eminent  men,  of  the  different  professions,  who  have  incident- 
ally met  with  him,  without  knowing  who  he  was,  have,  for 
the  first  half  hour  of  their  conversation,  mistaken  him  for  one 
of  their  own  class.  By  physicians  he  has  been  thought  a  phy- 
sician, and  a  lawyer  by  lawyers  ;  and  even  the  experienced 
senator  has  found  him  an  invincible  antagonist,  on  ground 
which  his  profession  merely  would  not  require  him  to  assume 

He  never  ceased  to  add  to  his  stock  of  knowledge ;  and  his 
intelligent  manner  of  conversing,  on  any  topic  whatever,  would 
excite  less  of  wonder,  if  the  amount  of  his  reading  were  known; 
He  was  a  subscriber  for  Rees's  Cyclopedia,  and  read  the  num- 
bers, generally  throughout,  as  they  successively  issued  from 
the  press.  He  has  been  reputed  a  great  novel  reader;  but 
this  report,  as  it  would  be  naturally  understood,  misrepresents 
him..  He  expended  little  money  ^or  time  on  books  of  this  class, 
after  having  turned  his  attention  to  the  ministry.  He  knew 
something  of  every  fictitious  work  which  was  introduced  into 
the  place  ;  but  this  knowledge  was  gained,  perhaps,  in  an 
hour's  time,  in  some  retired  corner  of  a  book-store,  which  was 
kept  by  one  of  his  parish.  He  had  good  reasons  for  knowing 
what  kind  of  books  circulated  among  his  people,  and  especially 
if  any  of  them  were  immoral  in  their  tendency.  If  he  read 
them  on  his  own  account,  it  was  for  mere  relaxation,  from 
which  his  vigorous  and  well-balanced  mind  derived  strength 
and  freshness  for  more  solid  pursuits. 

His  own  views  of  a  proper  course  of  reading  to  be  pursued 
by  a  Christian  were  once  given,  extempore,  in  conversation, 
from  which  it  will  be  seen,  that  novels  have,  at  most,  but  a 
very  dubious  place  :■ — 

"  It  may  be  proper,  and  perhaps  advantageous,  for  a  Chris- 
tian to  read,  sparingly,  works  of  taste.  History  he  ought  to 
read,  and  biography.  Some  knowledge  of  the  philosophy  of 
the  mind  is  desirable,  and  may  be  obtained  without  very  great 
expense  of  time.  Church  history,  and  a  knowledge  of  ancient 
Eastern  customs,  will  be  very  useful.  Every  kind  of  knowl- 
2]  * 


246  MEMOIR  OF 

edge  which  expands,  strengtliens,  and  adorns  the  mind,  may 
be  properly  sought  by  the  Christian,  and  ought  to  be  sought 
by  every  Christian  who  has  leisure  and  opportunity  for  read- 
ing. Our  aim  in  seeking  it  should  be  to  qualify  ourselves  to 
serve  and  glorify  God  more  effectually,  and  to  increase  our 
power  of  being  useful  to  our  fellow-creatures.  It  is  an  old 
remark,  that  "  knowledge  is  power."  To  increase  our  knowl- 
edge, then,  is  to  increase  our  power  of  doing  good.  Highly 
as  I  prize  such  writers  as  Fenelon,  Kempis,  &.C.,  I  am  con- 
vinced we  may  study  them,  not,  perhaps,  too  much,  but  too 
exclusively.  We  may  study  them  to  the  exclusion  of  other 
writers,  whose  works  demand  our  attention  ;  and  we  may  be 
so  intent  upon  watching  our  feelings,  as  to  forget  to  watch  our 
words  and  actions.  As  some  are  content  with  a  religion 
v/hich  is  all  body,  so  others  may  aim  at  a  religion  which  is  all 
soul ;  but  religion  has  a  body,  as  well  as  a  soul.  If  some 
think  it  sufficient  to  cleanse  the  outside  of  the  cup,  others  may 
be  so  much  occupied  in  cleansing  it  within,  as  to  forget  that 
it  has  an  outside.     Both  deserve  attention." 

The  press,  which  is,  with  some,  their  principal  means  of 
usefulness,  was  very  little  employed  by  Mr.  Payson.  He  cher- 
ished a  very  low  estimate  of  his  own  qualities  as  a  writer,  and 
could  rarely  be  persuaded  to  submit  a  production  for  publica- 
tion. To  a  request,  from  a  maternal  association  in  Boston, 
for  the  copy  of  a  sermon  of  a  specified  character,  he  replied — 
*'  It  would  gratify  me  exceedingly  to  comply  with  the  request. 
There  is  no  honor,  no  favor,  that  God  can  bestow,  which  I 
should  prize  more  highly  than  that  of  doing  good  with  my 
pen — of  leaving  something  behind  me  to  speak  for  Christ  when 
I  am  silent  in  dust.  But  this  honor  He,  who  distributes  his 
gifts  to  every  man  as  he  will,  does  not  see  fit  to  grant  me. 
My  sermons  will  not  bear  perusal.  I  must  resign  the  privilege 
of  doing  good  with  the  pen  to  those  who  are  more  able."  He 
certainly  undervalued  himself  as  a  writer,  or  else  the  Christian 
public  have  widely  erred  in  their  estimation  of  the  very  few 
publications  to  which,  during  his  life  time,  he  consented.  His 
discourse  before  the  Bible  Society  of  Maine,  in  1814,  was  the 
first  which  he  suffered  to  go  to  the  press  ;  and  the  myriads  of 
copies,  which  have  been  put  in  circulation,  show  in  what  man- 
ner it  is  appreciated.  And  yet,  while  correcting  the  press,  he 
says  of  it—"  It  seemed  so  flat,  I  would  have  given  any  thing 
to  recall  it  from  the  press." 

The  success  of  this  sermon  is  a  good  comment  on  the  secret 
history  of  its  origin  : — 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  247 

"  May  2,  1814.  Mond.  Was  so  much  exhausted,  that  I 
could  scarcely  move.  Made  a  few  visits.  Tried  to  write  ; 
but  felt  that  I  could  as  soon  make  a  world  as  write  a  sermon 
for  Thursday,  without  special  divine  assistance. 

"  May  3.  Was  employed  all  the  forenoon  in  preparing  a 
sermon  to  be  preached  before  the  Bible  Society.  Felt  that  I 
was  utterly  incapable  of  it,  and  that  if  I  was  enabled  to  write 
one,  the  glory  would  not  be  mine.  Prayed  for  assistance  with 
a  strong  hope  of  obtaining  it.     Made  a  few  visits. 

"  May  4.  Was  employed  upon  my  sermon,  and  was  favor- 
ed with  considerable  assistance.  Felt,  I  hope,  some  thankful- 
ness. But  all  my  prayers  for  assistance,  as  well  as  my  thank- 
fulness for  it,  are  so  mixed  with  selfishness,  that  they  are 
worse  than  nothing.  In  the  afternoon,  attended  the  funeral 
of  my  oldest  deacon.  Wished  to  be  suitably  affected,  and  to 
see  others  so.  Found  a  large  concourse  of  people  assem- 
bled ;  made  a  few  observations  to  them,  but  was  much  strait- 
ened. 

"  May  5.  Completed  my  sermon.  Felt  much  dissatisfied 
with  it.  Prayed  that  it  might  be  blessed  to  convey  more  to 
the  minds  of  others  than  it  did  to  my  own.  In  the  evening, 
preached ;  a  most  oppressive  air,  and  I  spoke  with  difficul- 
ty. Concluded,  from  observations  made  after  meeting,  that 
the  sermon  might  have  done  some  good  ;  if  so,  to  God 
belongs  all  the  glory,  and  to  him  may  I  be  enabled  to  as- 
cribe it." 

'-  Portland,  May  24,  1814. 
"  Not  long  after  you  receive  this,  you  may  expect  a  letter  in 
print ;  that  is  to  say,  a  discourse,  which  I  have  been  compel- 
led, sadly  against  my  will,  to  give  into  the  hands  of  the  printer. 
It  is  a  discourse  lately  delivered  before  the  Bible  Society. 
Fifteen  hundred  copies  were  subscribed  for,  and  a  promise 
made,  that  the  profits  should  go  to  purchase  Bibles.  Finding 
that  the  profits  would  be  sufficient  to  purchase,  at  least,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  Bibles,  I  could  not  in  conscience  refuse. 
So,  as  soon  as  it  comes  from  the  press,  which  will  be  in  a  very 
few  days,  you  will  probably  receive  one.  Do,  my  dear  pa- 
rents, pray,  pray  earnestly  for  the  poor  orphan,  that  it  may  do 
good  in  the  world.  I  have  never  been  assisted  to  pray  so 
much  for  any  one  sermon  as  this ;  and  that  encouraged  me  to 
let  it  see  the  light.  If  it  never  does  any  other  good,  it  will  be 
the  means  of  giving  the  Bible  to  many  who  would  otherwise 
remain  v/ithout  it.'' 


248  MEMOIR  OF 

A  very  excellent  Thanksgiving  Sermon  was  also  given  to 
the  public,  in  1820,  for  a  similar  reason,  viz.  a  promise, 
which  was  amply  fulfilled,  that  it  should  be  made  to  produce 
something  for  missionary  purposes. 

His  "  Address  to  Seamen"  was  the  next  in  order  of  his  pub- 
lications. Men,  affecting  considerable  pretensions  to  litera- 
ture, have  been  heard  to  speak  of  this  production  as  a  gross 
violation  of  good  taste.  But  the  author  knew  his  object,  and 
the  way  in  which  he  could  best  accomplish  it.  He  was  not 
writing  an  oration  for  the  alumni  of  a  college,  nor  an  article 
for  a  Quarterly  Review,  nor  a  "  pretty  discourse"  for  a  fash- 
ionable auditory,  but  an  address  to  seamen.  He  had  enjoyed 
more  than  common  advantages  for  studying  the  character  of 
this  class  of  his  fellow  men,  and  understood  their  vocabulary 
almost  as  well  as  themselves — so  well,  that  an  experienced 
sea-captain  was  able  to  detect,  in  the  whole  address,  but  a  sin- 
gle nautical  term  whose  application  involved  a  misconception 
of  its  use.  As  a  model,  it  would  be  dangerous  to  imitate  it — 
the  attempt,  indeed,  would  be  ridiculous.  But  if  it  is  not  a 
good  address,  the  public  is  strangely  erroneous  in  its  "  taste," 
and  the  effect  which  it  produced,  not  only  on  its  hearers,  but 
on  its  readers,  far  and  wide,  is  wholly  unaccountable.  Its 
popularity,  from  the  very  first,  has  been  unrivalled  by  any 
thing  of  its  kind.  Copies  of  it  have  been  multiplied  to  an  ex- 
tent past  computation.  It  has  been  translated  into  some  of 
the  languages  of  the  old  world,  and  pretty  extensively  circulat- 
ed on  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean,  from  the  press  at  Mal- 
ta. And,  if  report  be  true,  some  divines  of  the  mother  coun- 
try have  not  thought  it  disgraceful  to  claim  a  parental  relation 
to  it.  Still  it  was  no  labored  production  ;  it  was  happily  con- 
ceived, but  the  author  does  not  appear  to  have  laid  himself  out 
to  produce  any  thing  very  extraordinary.  It  was  thrown  off 
almost  at  a  sitting,  and  at  a  time  when  he  was  "  encompassed 
with  infirmities,"  and  heavily  pressed  by  other  labors.  This 
is  evident  from  his  private  record  : — 

"  Oct.  22,  23,  1821.  Very  unwell  these  two  days.  Could 
do  nothing,  though  I  have  four  sermons  to  prepare  this  week. 
Was,  for  a  moment,  tempted  to  murmur  ;  but  the  recollection 
of  God's  past  kindness  and  faithfulness  prevented  me,  and  caus- 
ed faith  to  revive. 

"  Oct.  24.  Was  better  to-day  ;  and  wrote  almost  the  whole 
of  an  address  to  seamen,  to  be  delivered  Sabbath  evening. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  249 

Felt  some  degree  of  gratitude,  and  resolved  never  to  refuse  to 
improve  any  opportunity  of  doing  good  because  I  seemed  not 
to  have  time  for  it. 

"  Oct.  25.  Was  furnished  with  a  suitable  text  and  sermon 
for  this  evening,  without  much  labor.  How  graciously  and 
wisely  does  God  deal  with  me !  How  much  I  ought  to  love 
and  trust  him !  Tried  to  preach  my  sermon  to  myself  Went 
to  the  house  of  God  in  much  such  a  frame  as  I  should  wish  to 
go ;  but  had  no  assistance  in  preaching,  and  got  through  with 
difficulty.  But  felt  satisfied  that  it  should  be  so,  and  was  ena- 
bled to  rejoice  in  the  Lord. 

"  Oct.  26.  Was  assisted  to-day  in  writing,  and  had  a  pre- 
cious season  in  prayer. 

"  Oct.  27.  Sick  to-day — a  violent  head-ache,  with  some  fe- 
ver. Did  not  see  how  I  could  complete  my  preparation  for 
to-morrow,  but  felt  satisfied  and  easy.  Saw  it  was  best  I 
should  have  some  rebuff;  took  courage  from  it,  and  hope  that 
God  meant  to  bless  my  labors  to-morrow.  In  the  evening, 
wrote  considerable,  notwithstanding  my  head-ache  ;  and,  after 
I  retired,  was  almost  painfully  happy,  rejoicing  in  God  with 
joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory. 

"  Oct.  28.  Sah.  Some  better  this  morning.  Finished  a 
sermon  for  the  afternoon,  on  increasing  in  the  knowledge  of 
God..  Was  almost  insupportably  happy,  and  could  hardly  re- 
frain from  shouting  aloud  for  joy.  Was  assisted  in  praying 
for  others ;  yet  had  no  assistance  in  public  prayer  or  preach- 
ing. In  the  evening,  preached  to  seamen — an  overflowing 
house ;  aisles  and  pulpit  stairs  full,  and  hundreds  went  away 
who  could  not  get  in.  Was  enabled  to  go  through  tolerably. 
As  soon  as  I  came  down,  was  beset  so  importunately  for  a 
copy  for  the  press,  that  I  could  not  refuse." 

"Portland,  Nov.  25,  1821. 

"  My  Address  to  Seamen  is  published,  and  I  shall  send  you 
one  with  this.  They  hare  printed  nine  thousand  copies  ; 
three  thousand  in  the  sermon  form,  and  six  thousand  in  the 
form  of  a  tract.  They  mean  to  send  them  to  every  seaport 
in  the  United  States.  I  know  you  will  pray  that  a  blessing 
may  go  with  it.  It  produced  a  great  effect  upon  seamen  and 
others  for  a  time  ;  but  I  do  not  know  that  any  have  been  really 
awakened  by  it.  One  hundred  and  forty  sailors  applied,  the 
next  day,  for  Bibles,  most  of  whom  paid  for  them.  I  could 
not  but  wonder  to  see  God  work  by  it.  I  had  only  ten  days' 
notice,  and,  daring  that  time,  had  to  prepare  and  preach  six 


250  MEMOIR  OF 

sermons,  besides  the  Address,  and  another  sermon  which  I  did 
not  preach." 

"Dec.  26. 
"  If  I  do  not  feel  thankful  for  any  other  favor  which  God 
gives  me,  I  do  feel  some  gratitude  when  he  enables  me  to  do 
any  thing  which  gives  pleasure  to  the  heart  of  my  mother. 
If  you  were  dead,  one  half  the  gratification  I  feel,  when  I  pub- 
lish any  thing  which  is  well  received,  would  be  gone.  I 
should  also  lose  one  half  of  my  hopes,  that  any  thing  I  publish 
will  do  good ;  for  I  build  my  hopes  very  much  on  your  prayers 
for  a  blessing.  I  suppose  you  or  H.  sent  me  the  Keene  paper, 
which  contains  my  Address.  It  has  been  published  in  two 
other  papers,  and  in  a  Baptist  Magazine  at   Boston  ;  and  I 

have  just  received  a  letter  from  Professor  P.'s  wife,  at ,  in 

behalf  of  a  number  of  ladies  there,  who  wish  to  publish  a  large 
edition,  in  the  form  of  a  tract.  I  have  requested  our  church 
to  pray  that  a  blessing  may  go  with  it,  and  I  doubt  not  you 
will  continue  to  pray.  If  it  does  any  good,  it  will  be  owing  to 
prayer." 

His  other  publication  was  a  sermon,  preached  before  the 
"  Marine  Bible  Society  of  Boston,"  entitled  '^  The  Oracles  of 
God" — a  much  more  labored  production  than  either  of  his 
other  published  discourses,  and  yet,  for  some  cause,  it  has 
been  far  less  popular. — Besides  these,  he  furnished  one  or  two 
manuscript  sermons  for  the  National  Preacher,  which  appear- 
ed soon  after  his  decease. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  251 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

His  exertions  without  the  hounds  of  his  parish — Influence  on 
his  ministerial  associates  ;  in  resuscitating  and  edifying  oth- 
er churches — Visits  '^  The  Springs^' — Effect  of  his  example, 
conversation,  and  prayers  on  other  visiters — Excursions  in 
behalf  of  charitable  societies — Translation  of  ministers — 
He  is  invited  to  Boston  and  New  York. 

It  is  not  easy  to  estimate  the  usefulness  of  a  man  in  public 
life,  whose  numerous  relations  bring  him  into  contact  with  his 
fellow  men,  in  a  great  variety  of  circumstances.  A  minister 
of  the  gospel,  especially  at  this  day,  is  not  an  insulated 
individual,  whose  influence  is  limited  by  parochial  bounds. 
His  presence,  counsel,  example,  prayers,  give  shape,  tone,  di- 
rection, energy,  to  public  institutions  for  enlightening  the  hu- 
man species,  alleviating  its  sufferings,  and  extending  the  em- 
pire of  holiness.  It  is,  indeed,  no  slight  honor  to  be  permit- 
ted to  feed  and  build  up  a  single  branch  of  the  church  of  God. 
To  see  the  number  of  believers  multiplied,  and  converted 
sinners  joining  themselves  to  the  people  of  God,  as  the  fruit  of 
his  labors,  is  an  adequate  reward  for  the  pastor's  most  arduous 
toils,  and  for  all  the  solicitude,  with  which  his  anxious  bosom 
is  afflicted.  And  yet  the  increase  and  edification  of  his  own 
particular  charge  may  be  only  a  small  part  of  the  good  which 
is  to  be  traced,  more  or  less  directly,  to  his  instrumentality. 
The  many  hundreds,  to  whom  Mr.  Payson's  labors  were  bless- 
ed in  the  place  of  his  residence,  and  whom  it  was  his  happi- 
ness to  welcome  to  the  church  under  his  special  supervision, 
are  only  a  part,  and  may  be  found  a  small  part,  of  the  gems 
which  will  embellish  his  crown  of  rejoicing  in  the  day  of  the 
Lord.  To  ascertain  the  whole  amount  of  his  usefulness,  we 
must  know  the  nature  and  degree  of  his  influence  upon  his 
fellow  laborers  in  the  ministry, — the  effect  of  his  occasional  la- 
bors in  different  and  distant  parts  of  the  country,  his  agency 
in  raising  the  tone  of  piety  in  all  the  churches  which  could  be 
reached  by  his  influence,  the  results  of  his  powerful  pleadings 
in  behalf  of  religious  and  charitable  enterprises,  of  his  counsel 
in  ecclesiastical  concerns,  and  as  one  of  the  guardians  of  the 
principal  seminary  of  learning  in  Maine, — all,  in  short,  that 


252  •  MEMOIR  OF 

flowed  from  his  conscientious  and  ever  watchful  regard,  wher- 
ever he  was,  and  with  whomsoever  he  met,  to  the  apostolical 
precept — "  Consider  one  another,  to  provoke  unto  love  and  to 
good  works." 

It  is  not  intended  here  to  give  him  a  character  at  the  ex- 
pense of  his  brethren,  or  to  introduce  their  names  as  a  foil  to 
his  excellences.  Such  comparisons  are  always  invidious ;  and, 
besides,  where  many  are  associated  in  the  same  cause,  it  is 
difficult,  indeed  impossible,  to  define  the  precise  degree  of  in- 
fluence which  ought  to  be  ascribed  to  each  ;  though  all,  prob- 
ably, will  admit  Mr.  Payson's  claim  to  a  large  share ;  and  not 
a  few,  on  reviewing  the  past,  will  see,  in  the  exigencies  of  the 
churches  in  this  region,  and  in  the  existing  standard  of  minis- 
terial disinterestedness  and  zeal,  causes  of  thankfulness  to  that 
gracious  Providence  which  raised  up  and  sent  such  a  man 
among  them. 

His  presence  in  the  ministerial  association  to  which  he  be- 
longed, though  often  prevented  by  the  frequent  recurrence  of 
his  agonizing  "  head-ache,"  and  by  duties  at  home,  which  he 
could  not  dispense  with,  was  highly  valued  by  a  majority  of 
his  brethren.  He  was  a  strong  advocate  for  devoting  the  first 
part  of  the  time  occupied  by  such  meetings,  to  social  prayer. 
Prayer  was  his  own  preparation  for  every  duty  ;  and  he  felt  it 
to  be  equally  important,  that  it  should  be  a  common  prepara- 
tion for  a  social  duty.  When  on  a  council  for  the  ordination 
of  a  minister,  he  was  always  on  the  watch  for  some  interval  of 
time,  to  be  consecrated  to  united  prayer,  with  particular  refer- 
ence to  the  occasion  and  its  consequences.  In  ministers^ 
meetings,  whether  the  immediate  object  were  mutual  edifica- 
tion, or  a  solution  v/ere  requested  of  cases  of  conscience,  and 
other  difficulties  which  often  arise  in  the  discharge  of  the  sa- 
cred office,  or  trying  cases  of  discipline  were  presented  for  ad- 
visement, he  was  always  ready  to  speak  in  his  turn,  and  al- 
ways spoke  to  the  purpose.  A  topic  seldom  passed  him  with- 
out fi-esh  elucidation.  Any  proposition,  which  bore  the  least 
trace  of  a  time-serving  policy,  or  mere  worldly  wisdom,  he 
would  instantly  discountenance.  The  writer  has  known  him 
to  do  this,  at  once  and  effectually,  by  a  very  few  words  of  his 
own,  pointed  with  one  of  Witherspoon's  "  Characteristics." 

He  occasionally  performed  services  for  other  parishes,  of 
most  auspicious  bearing  on  the  cause  of  religion  ;  services 
which  thousands  have  regretted  that  his  health  and  engage- 
ments would  not  permit  him  to  repeat.  The  nature  of  the 
services  alluded  to  will  be  seen  by  an  extract : — 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  253 

"  Portland,  Jan.  1,  1814. 
'•My  dear  Mother, 

"  Not  long  after  your  return,  I  went  to ,  a  town  about 

forty  miles  from  this,  on  a  week's  missionary  excursion.  They 
are  in  a  wretched  state — have  had  no  settled  minister  for  seven 
years.  The  only  minister  they  ever  had  proved  an  intempe- 
rate man.  He  is  still  living  in  the  place,  and  does  all  he  can 
to  prejudice  the  people  against  the  gospel  and  all  who  preach 
it. — Before  I  proceed,  I  must  take  a  little  shame  to  myself, 
that  God's  goodness  may  appear  more  conspicuous.  I  com- 
menced my  ride  by  going  to  G.,  to  obtain  Mr.  H.  to  preach 
for  me  during  my  absence.  The  next  morning,  it  stormed 
violently  ;  then  I  began  to  repent  of  my  undertaking.  How- 
ever, I  was  ashamed  to  go  back  ;  so  on  I  went  in  the  storm. 
I  was  tolerably  good-natured  the  first  part  of  the  day,  but  the 
storm  and  the  road  grew  worse  and  worse.  First  it  was  all 
mire  and  clay,  then  nothing  but  hills  and  stones.  I  began  to 
grow  cross.  Every  bad  jolt  made  me  worse,  till  I  felt  as  bad 
as  Jonah  did,  and  was  ready  to  say,  with  him — '  I  do  well  to 
be  angry.'  Being  in  this  frame,  I  concluded,  of  course,  that 
I  should  do  no  good,  wished  myself  at  home  a  thousand  times, 
and  more  than  half  resolved  that  I  would  never  have  any  thing 
to  do  with  a  missionary  tour  again.  However,  I  arrived  safe, 
and  began  my  labors,  and  soon  found  that  I  was  not  laboring 
alone.  I  cannot  go  into  particulars.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  in 
no  place,  not  even  in  Portland,  have  I  ever  seen  so  much  of 
God's  power  displayed,  in  the  same  space  of  time,  as  during 

the  six  days  I  spent  in .    I  preached  six  times,  and  made 

between  forty  and  fifty  family  visits.  Many  were  awakened — 
almost  all  were  solemn.  One  old  man  of  seventy,  among  the 
wealthiest  in  the  place,  who  has  always  been  against  doing 
any  thing  towards  the  settlement  of  a  minister,  was  very  deeply 
impressed,  and  has  promised  to  give  three  hundred  dollars  to- 
wards a  fund.  Two  others  will  give  three  hundred  more  each. 
— I  was  obliged  to  return  home,  on  account  of  church  fast  and 
communion ;  but  they  have  sent  for  me  to  come  up  again,  and 
next  week.  Providence  permitting,  I  shall  go.  Thus  was  I 
shamed  and  confounded  by  God's  goodness.  But  this  is  not 
all.  I  came  home  thoroughly  drenched  by  the  shower  of  di- 
vine influences,  which  began  to  fall  at ,  and  soon  found- 
that  the  cloud  had  followed  me,,  and  was  beginning  to  pour 
itself  down  upon  my  people.  Instead  of  a  fast,  we  appointed 
a  season  of  thanksgiving.  A  blessing  seemed  to  follow  it.  I 
then  invited  the  young  men  of  the  parish  to  come  to  my  house, 
on   Sabbath  evening,  for  religious   purposes.      The   church 


254  MEMOIR  OF 

thought  none  would  come.  I  expected  twenty  at  most.  The 
first  evening,  forty  came  ;  the  second,  sixty  ;  and  the  third, 
seventy.  This  was  the  last  Sabbath.  Six  stopped,  after  the 
rest  were  dismissed,  to  converse  more  particularly  respecting 
divine  things.  About  thirty  persons  are  known  to  be  seriously 
inquiring,  and  there  is  every  appearance  that  the  work  is 
spreading.  Meanwhile,  I  am  so  ashamed,  so  rejoiced,  and  so 
astonished,  to  see  what  God  is  doing,  that  I  can  scarcely  get 
an  hour's  sleep." 

No  account  of  his  second  visit  has  been  preserved.  The 
hopes,  however,  which  had  been  excited  by  his  first,  were  not 
disappointed.  The  change,  which  then  commenced,  prevail- 
ed, and  was  permanent.  In  the  following  spring,  a  candidate, 
who  had  completed  his  preparation  for  the  ministry  under  Mr. 
Payson's  instruction,  visited  the  place,  and,  during  his  first 
week,  *  found  ten  persons  who  entertained  a  hope,  and  heard 
of  others  ;  and,  in  sixteen  families  whom  he  had  visited,  more 
or  less  were  inquiring,  and,  in  some  instances,  whole  families. 
Religion  was  almost  exclusively  the  topic  of  conversation,  and 
the  whole  society  appeared  solemn.  The  subscriptions  to  a 
fund,  for  the  support  of  a  Calvinistic  minister  of  the  gospel, 
had  amounted  to  three  or  four  thousand  dollars.'  This  young 
preacher  soon  became  the  established  minister  of  the  place, 
where  he  still  remains,  a  useful  laborer  in  the  vineyard  of 
Christ.  Such  were  the  results  of  one  short  missionary  ex- 
cursion. 

About  three  years  later,  by  particular  request,  he  spent  a 
week  in  another  town,  where  some  religious  attention  had 
commenced.  It  was  a  season  of  great  solemnity.  At  his  sug- 
gestion, the  church  assembled  and  renewed  their  covenant, 
whose  bonds,  for  a  long  time,  had  been  but  little  felt.  Their 
pastor  led  the  way,  by  acknowledging  his  deficiencies,  and 
then,  imploring  forgiveness,  and  strength  for  time  to  come, 
renewed  his  engagements  to  the  Lord  and  to  his  people.  His 
wife  followed  his  example,  and  was  succeeded  by  the  members 
of  the  church.  During  this  visit,  Mr.  Payson  preached  thir- 
teen sermons,  besides  attending  the  less  public  meetings,  and 
conversing  with  inquirers  and  the  impenitent ;  and  yet  he  was 
scarcely  sensible  of  fatigue  till  he  left  the  spot.  He  ''was  so 
happy,  that  he  thought  he  might  have  exerted  himself  till  he 
expired,  without  knowing  that  he  needed  rest."  Of  five  per- 
sons, the  fruits  of  this  revival,  who  were  propounded  to  the 
church  at  one  time,  four  were  above  seventy  years  of  age. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  255 

A  service,  not  very  dissimilar  in  kind,  he  once  performed 
for  several  churches  in  his  own  neighborhood,  as  one  of  a 
committee  of  the  Cumberland  conference,  much  to  their  ac- 
ceptance, and,  it  is  hoped,  to  their  spiritual  advantage. 

During  his  public  life,  Mr.  Payson  made  several  journeys  to 
the  springs  at  Ballston  and  Saratoga,  for  the  recovery  of  his 
vi^asted  health.  The  mixed  characters,  collected  together  at 
this  place  of  fashionable  resort,  found  him  the  judicious  and 
earnest  advocate  of  his  Master's  cause.  Here  he  was  no  less 
bent  on  the  ruling  purpose  of  his  heart,  than  when  at  home, 
among  his  own  favorite  flock.  A  visiter  from  another  state, 
who  took  lodgings  in  the  same  house  with  himself,  and  pre- 
served some  of  his  remarks  and  topics  of  discourse,  testifies 
that  it  was  Mr.  Payson's  usual  practice,  in  the  evening,  to  read 
the  Scriptures  at  a  stated  hour,  and  ofTer  prayer,  which  was 
attended  by  most  of  the  family  and  boarders,  and  to  spend  a 
half  hour,  after  prayer,  in  religious  conversation  with  all  who 
were  disposed  to  remain.  He  always  found  many  willing  to 
hear,  and  the  number  continually  increased.  He  observed  to 
the  visiter  above  alluded  to,  that  the  time  spent  at  the  springs 
would  not  appear  so  much  like  a  blank,  if  he  should  be  per- 
mitted to  do  any  thing  for  the  cause  of  Christ  This  privilege 
was  granted  him ;  for  many  left  that  boarding-house  with  deep 
religious  impressions,  produced  through  his  instrumentality. 
One  young  man,  who  had  resolved  on  finding  new  lodgings, 
because  there  was  "  so  much  praying"  where  he  was,  became 
the  subject  of  deep  conviction,  the  very  evening  he  expressed 
such  a  determination.  The  gentleman,  on  whose  authority 
these  facts  are  stated,  observes  of  his  prayers — "  They  contain 
a  great  deal  of  instruction,  as  well  as  devotion.  He  has  a 
happy  faculty  of  making  his  prayers  preachJ^  Yet,  while  his 
conversation  and  prayers  were  so  impressive,  and  so  full  of  in- 
struction to  others,  he  mourns  over  his  own  dulness,  as  though 
"the  waters  had  washed  every  idea  out  of  his  head,  and  every 
feeling  out  of  his  heart." 

The  events  alluded  to  in  the  foregoing  paragraph,  transpir- 
ed in  1815.  Of  the  impression  produced  by  a  subsequent 
visit,  some  idea  may  be  formed  from  the  following  letter,  ad- 
dressed to  the  compiler  : — 

"  East  Windsor,  Conn.,  Nov.  2,  1829. 

"On  his  way  to  Niagara,  Dr.  Payson  called  at  my 

house,  purposing  to  rest  awhile,  and  try  the  benefit  of  the 
waters.  I  had  heard  much  of  this  excellent  man,  but  never 
saw  him  till  this  time  ;  and  the  impression  he  made  on  my 


256  MEMOIR  OF 

mind,  at  this  first  interview,  will  not  soon  be  forgotten.  I  was 
struck  with  the  perfect  simplicity  and  great  dignity  of  his 
manners.  His  countenance  was  *  care-worn,'  and  he  had  the 
appearance  of  one  sinking  under  the  load  of  human  infirn,i- 
ties,  and  sighing  for  rest. 

*  =K=  *  * 

"  Speaking  of  his  trials  on  one  occasion,  he  observed  to 
me — *  I  have  needed,  all  along,  to  be  under  the  discipline  of 
Heaven  ;  for  nothing  else  could  have  kept  me  humble,  and 
saved  me  from  perdition.  I  have  ever  been  prone  to  depart 
from  God,  and  have  been  kept  only  by  a  constant  effort  of  his 
love.  It  seems  to  me,  if  God  had  not  continually  held  the 
rod  over  me,  and  hedged  up  my  way,  I  should  have  escaped 
from  his  hands,  and  been  forever  separated  from  his  love.' — I 
expected,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries,  to  hear  of  the  victories 
of  his  faith  ;  but  he  spoke  only  of  the  wonderful  power  of 
God,  which  had  kept  him,  and  of  his  love  to  one  so  unworthy 
and  perverse.  He  spoke  of  his  *  fierce  temptations,'  and  how 
he  had  been  delivered  by  the  mere  mercy  of  God,  and  won- 
dered that  God  should  concern  himself  about  such  a  worm, 
and  that  he  did  not  leave  him  to  be  torn  and  devoured  by 
Satan.  In  all  my  conversations  with  this  wonderful  man,  I 
never  heard  him  utter  a  word  that  bordered  on  boasting,  or 
savored  of  pride  ;  but  he  seemed  to  have  a  surprising  sense 
of  his  own  unworthiness,  and  of  the  amazing  love  of  God  in 
making  himself  known  to  him,  and  giving  him  a  hope  in  his 
mercy. 

"  Among  the  virtues  of  our  friend's  character,  that  of  hu- 
mility appeared  eminently  beautiful  and  lovely,  and  shone  in 
his  whole  deportment.  In  prayer,  his  soul  lay  low  before  God. 
He  frequently  took  part  in  family  devotion,  and  here  he  excel- 
led all  the  men  I  ever  heard.  He  carried  us  up,  and  placed 
us  all  in  the  divine  presence  ;  and,  when  he  spread  forth  his 
hands  to  God,  heaven  seemed  to  come  down  to  earth,  and  the 
^}oYy  of  the  Lord  shone  around  our  tabernacle.  He  knew  our 
wants,  and  he  expressed  them  in  language  simple  and  affect- 
ing. He  knew  our  miseries,  and  he  told  them  all  in  such 
tones  of  tenderness  and  sympathy,  as  made  us  feel  that  a 
friend  was  pleading  our  cause.  While  this  holy  man  has  talk- 
ed with  God,  and  seemed  to  be  overshadowed  with  the  divine 
glory,  I  have  sometimes  thought  I  could  imagine  what  must 
have  been  the  ecstasy  of  Peter,  when  surrounded  with  the 
glories  of  the  transfiguration  scene.  At  these  solemn  seasons, 
when  our  brother  has  been  pouring  out  his  heart  in  deep  com- 
plaints of  sin,  and  in  fervent  petitions  for  mercy,  it  has  seemed 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  «J57 

as  though  the  cloud  of  the  divine  presence  covered  the  house- 
hold, and  the  divine  majesty  was  very  near  us. 

"  The  only  exercise  Dr.  Payson  performed  in  public,  while 
with  us,  was  the  baptism  of  my  youngest  child.  Some,  who 
heard  his  baptismal  prayer,  observed,  afterwards,  that  the  sub- 
ject of  infant  baptism  had  never  been  exhibited  to  them  in  so 
convincing  and  solemn  a  light,  and  that  they  had  never  been 
so  thoroughly  impressed  with  the  obligations  of  religious  pa- 
rents, and  the  covenant  rights  of  their  children. 

"  In  the  bosom  of  a  private  family,  Dr.  Payson  hoped  to 
escape  notice,  and  fmd  rest  from  the  vexations  of  company. 
But  he  could  not  be  long  concealed  ;  his  retreat  was  soon  dis- 
covered, and  visiters  thronged  to  see  him. 

"  Our  domestic  circle  was  often  enlivened  by  the  presence 
and  the  conversation  of  Dr.  Payson.  The  children  were  not 
unnoticed  by  him,  but  shared  largely  in  his  attentions ;  and  he 
seemed  to  take  delight  in  sharing  the  toils  of  the  nursery. 
Often  would  he  take  the  child  from  the  arms  of  its  mother, 
and  carry  it  for  hours  together,  and  sing  some  little  air  to  di- 
vert it. — His  conversations  were,  for  the  most  part,  of  a  reli- 
gious cast.  He  seemed  inclined  to  dwell  on  melancholy  sub- 
jects, and  the  strains  of  the  mourning  prophet  suited  him  best. 
Yet  now  and  then  would  he  dwell  on  the  sublime  and  anima- 
ting themes  of  religion  ;  and,  when  he  began  on  an  exalted 
strain,  he  was  surpassingly  eloquent  and  instructive.  He  would 
seize  hold  of  some  thought,  and  pursue  it  until  it  expanded 
and  glowed  under  the  splendor  of  his  imagery.  On  one  oc- 
casion, he  spoke  of  the  probable  condition  of  the  soul  of  the 
believer  when  dying.  At  this  awful  period,  when  gasping  in 
the  agonies  of  death,  and  apparently  insensible  to  every  thing 
around  him,  he  supposed  the  world  to  be  wholly  shut  out ;  and 
in  this  condition,  while  friends  stand  around,  and  tremble  to 
think  of  the  unknown  agonies  he  may  be  enduring,  he  suppo- 
ses the  light  of  God's  countenance  is  pouring  in  upon  the  soul, 
rendering  him  insensible  to  all  his  pains,  and  the  soul  is  strug- 
gling and  panting  to  escape  from  the  crumbling  tenement,  and 
be  at  rest  in  the  bosom  of  God. — I  can  only  give  you  the  idea  ; 
it  is  impossible  to  reach  his  description.  He  seemed  to  dwell 
in  a  spiritual  world,  and  to  be  most  conversant  with  spiritual 
objects.  This  he  manifested  "  by  pureness,  by  knowledge,  by 
love  unfeigned."  He  talked  about  death  as  we  would  talk 
about  going  from  one  place  to  another  ;  and,  if  any  might 
adopt  the  language  of  Watts,  much  more  might  he  : — 

"  Receive  my  clay,  thou  treasurer  of  death  3 
I  will  no  more  demand  my  tonsrue 

22* 


258  MEMOIR  OF 

Till  the  gross  organ,  well  refined, 
:^  Shall  trace  the  boundless  flights  of  an  unfettered  mind, 

P  And  raise  an  equal  song." 

"  I  add  no  more ;  only  that  the  visit  of  Dr.  Payson  at  my 
house  left  this  impression  upon  our  minds — not  to  be  forgetful 
to  entertain  strangers  ;  for  thereby  some  have  entertained  An- 
gels unawares. 

"  Respectfully  yours, 

**  Samuel  W.  Whelpley." 

A  short  passage  from  a  letter  of  condolence,  addressed  to 
Mrs.  Payson  by  a  friend  in  Connecticut,  will  probably  express 
the  common  sentiment  of  the  many  thousands,  who  have  lis- 
tened to  him  whether  for  a  few  moments  only  or  for  hours : — 

*^  I  remember  with  most  deep  and  interesting  impression, 
my  last  interview  with  your  beloved  and  ever-to-be-lamented 
husband.  It  was  during  a  delightful  ride  of  five  or  six  miles, 
on  the  borders  of  Farmington  river.  Never  had  I  heard  such 
discourse  from  the  lips  of  man — never  had  such  an  interview 
with  a  mortal.  Even  then  he  seemed  like  a  pure  spirit  from 
another  world.  Such  words  of  wisdom  !  and  such  heavenly 
affections  !  I  cannot  efface  the  impression  from  my  mind." 

The  compiler  has  taken  much  pains  to  procure  from  com- 
panions of  his  journeys  some  of  the  striking  observations,  which 
were  drawn  from  him  by  the  natural  scenery  that  he  witnessed, 
by  the  various  characters  with  whom  he  met,  and  the  circum- 
stances in  which,  at  different  times,  he  found  himself  But 
his  attempts,  even  with  those  from  whom  he  had  the  greatest 
reason  to  expect  full  and  satisfactory  replies,  have  been  utterly 
fruitless.  The  general  impression  produced  by  his  occasional 
conversation,  has  been  very  strong  and  deep,  and  the  effect 
powerful  and  abiding ;  but  no  one  has  ventured  to  report  par- 
ticulars. The  words,  and,  of  course,  the  precise  sentiments, 
with  numerous  circumstances  which  rendered  them  peculiarly 
seasonable,  "  like  apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver,"  are 
lost  beyond  recovery,  while  their  effect  remains.  The  impulse 
which  he  gave  to  other  minds  still  keeps  them  in  action,  and 
is  still  transmitted  from  mind  to  mind,  while  it  is  impossible 
for  them  to  tell  how  this  impulse  was  first  imparted.  The 
pleasure  and  the  benefit  remain,  though  the  exciting  cause 
has  disappeared.  So  absorbed  have  persons  been  with  the 
effect,  as  to  lose  all  distinct  recollection  of  the  means  employed 
in  producing  it. — This  corresponds  with  the  writer's  experi- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  259 

ence.  At  the  first  visit  which  he  ever  received  from  Dr.  Pay- 
son,  some  allusion  was  made  to  the  opinion  which  prevails 
among  Christians  in  common  life,  that  ministers  are  in  a  situa- 
tion peculiarly  favorable  to  religious  enjoyment,  because  their 
profession  leads  them  to  be  incessantly  conversant  with  divine 
truth.  "  This,"  said  Mr.  Payson,  "  is  just  as  if  a  hungry  man, 
on  entering  the  kitchen  of  a  large  victualling-house,  and  inhal- 
ing the  savory  odor  of  the  various  dishes  of  rich  food,  hot  from 
the  fire  and  the  oven,  with  which  the  busy  laborers  were  loading 
the  tables,  should  exclaim — *  What  a  blessed  time  these  cooks 
have  !'  "  During  the  interview,  he  uttered  enough  to  make  a 
valuable  pamphlet ;  and  yet  this  one  comparison  is  all  that  can 
be  related  with  even  tolerable  justice  to  him. 

He  had  repeated  applications  from  the  directors  of  the  prin- 
cipal charitable  societies  of  the  country  to  take  journeys  and 
collect  funds  for  their  respective  operations.  Of  the  first  of 
these  applications  he  says — "  I  dislike  begging,  and  therefore 
thought  I  must  go ;  but  the  hopes  of  a  revival  pulled  me  back." 
He,  however,  soon  after,  "  made  a  beginning  by  visiting  a  few 
towns,  the  result  of  which  did  not  encourage  him  to  proceed. 
He  was  brought  into  circumstances  which  rendered  it  neces- 
sary to  preach  ten  times  in  eight  days ;"  which,  added  to  the 
fatigue  of  riding  a  great  distance,  proved  too  much  for  his 
strength,  and  compelled  him  to  relinquish  the  undertaking. 

In  the  early  part  of  1819,  he  made  a  tour,  confined  chiefly 
to  Essex  county,  Mass.,  in  behalf  of  the  American  Education 
Society.*  His  success  in  collecting  money,  though  as  great, 
probably,  as  his  employers  had  any  reason  to  anticipate,  did 
not  equal  his  own  wishes.  It  was  no  slight  trial,  *  after  preach- 
ing till  he  was  half  dead,  to  find  only  a  few  dollars  contributed, 
and  then  be  obliged  to  retire,  and  lie  awake,  brooding  over  his 
ill  success  half  the  night.'  His  actual  receipts,  however,  con- 
stituted but  a  small  part  of  the  advantage  which  the  society 

*  A  little  manuscript  volume  has  fallen  into  my  hands,  in  which  one  of  Mr. 
Pa3^son's  hearers  entered  his  texts  from  time  to  time,  tog-ether  with  some  of  the 
leading-  topics  of  his  discourses.  A  short  extract  will  show  the  appositeness  of 
his  subjects  to  the  circumstances  of  himself  and  his  congregation,  and  enable  the 
reader  to  imagine  the  additional  force  and  impressiveness  which  his  instructions 
hence  derived : — 

"  Jan.  24,  1819.  In  the  afternoon,  Mr.  Payson,  preparatory  to  leaving  town 
on  a  mission  to  the  counties  of  Essex  and  Middlesex,  in  the  service  of  the  Amer- 
ican Education  Society,  preached  from  these  words  : — 

•  Now  I  beseech  you,  brethren,  for  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ's  sake,  and  for  the 
love  of  the  Spirit,  that  ye  strive  together  with  me  in  your  prayers  to  God  forme, 
that  I  may  be  delivered  from  them  that  do  not  believe  in  Judea ;  and  that  my 
service  which  I  have  for  Jerusalem,  may  be  accepted  of  the  saints ;  that  I  may 
come  to  you  with  joy  by  the  will  of  God,  and  may  with  you  be  refreshed.'  " — 
Rom.  XV.  30—32. 


260  MEMOIR  OF 

realized  as  the  consequence  of  his  excursion.  By  such  an  ad- 
vocate, its  objects  and  its  claims  were  favorably  made  known 
to  the  community ;  auxiliary  societies  were  formed,  and  prom- 
ises obtained  from  individuals  of  large  donations.  The  amount 
of  good  which  he  accomplished  on  this  journey  cannot  be  es- 
timated by  dollars  and  cents.  To  obtain  money,  was  with 
him,  now  and  at  all  times,  a  very  subordinate  object.  It  was 
his  great  desire  to  exert  an  influence  favorable  to  the  spiritual 
welfare  of  ministers  and  churches  whom  he  visited.  *'  I  la- 
bored as  directly  as  I  dared,  to  persuade  all  the  ministers  where 
I  went  to  expect  a  revival,  and  talked  to  them  in  my  way  about 
Christ."  His  unusual  manner  of  conversing  attracted  atten- 
tion, and  opened  to  his  brethren  new  ways  of  awakening  inter- 
est in  the  subject  of  Christ,  and  his  salvation.  His  prayers 
produced  the  same  impression  which  they  always  had  on  stran- 
gers. An  aged  minister  noticed  the  same  quality  in  his  pray- 
ers, as  did  the  lay  visiter  at  the  Springs.  He  remarked,  after 
hearing  them,  that  prayer  might  be  made  as  instructive  as 
preaching ;  and  wrote  to  a  son  in  the  ministry,  to  have  Mr. 
Payson  preach  for  him,  by  all  means,  and  especially  io  pray. 

Mr.  Payson's  excursions,  from  time  to  time,  for  the  benefit 
of  his  health,  were  the  means  of  making  him  personally  known 
in  several  of  our  southern  cities,  as  well  as  in  New  England 
and  New  York,  and,  consequently,  of  extending  that  pious 
influence  which  he  ever  exerted  to  the  farthest  boundaries  of 
our  land. 

There  is  nothing  more  true,  in  theory,  than  that  a  minister 
is  the  common  property  of  the  church  at  large,  rather  than  of 
any  particular  division  of  the  church,  and  that  she  has  a  right 
to  his  services  in  that  place,  which  will  afford  the  widest  scope 
for  the  effectual  and  useful  employment  of  his  peculiar  talents 
and  qualifications.  But  various  causes  render  the  principle 
one  of  most  diflScult  application.  Some  unhappy  consequen- 
ces, perhaps,  never  fail  to  follow  the  transfer  of  a  minister  from 
one  church  to  another ;  and  no  slight  probability  of  increased 
usefulness  can  justify  such  removal.  In  order  that  such  a 
change  may  bring  any  gain  to  the  church  general,  a  minister 
must  do  much  more  good  in  his  new  situation,  than  he  did  in 
that  which  he  left ;  for  it  will  require  much  to  balance  the  cer- 
tain evils,  inseparable  from  his  removal.  When  a  pastor  is  es- 
tablished in  the  affections  and  confidence  of  his  flock,  and  is 
laboring  v/ith  more  than  ordinary  zeal  and  success,  any  inter- 
ference from  abroad  must  be  regarded  as  a  hazardous  experi- 
ment. There  may  be  much  of  selfishness  in  the  refusal  of  a 
people  to  give  up  their  minister ;  but  certainly  not  more  than 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  261 

tliero  is  in  those  who  wish  to  obtain  his  services  at  their  ex- 
pense, and  by  whose  soUcitations  their  feehngs  are  put  to  the 
trial.  Else,  why  does  the  choice  of  rich  churches  never  fall 
upon  any  but  ministers  of  established  popularity,  or  distinguish- 
ed for  their  success  ;  while  many  others,  equal,  perhaps  supe- 
rior, in  moral  and  intellectual  worth,  are  placed  over  churches 
by  whom  their  merits  are  not  appreciated,  and  who  only  need 
a  change  of  situation  to  take  a  rank  among  the  most  useful  of 
Christ's  ministers  ?  The  "  call"  of  a  church  to  the  pastor  of  a 
sister  church  may  be  the  call  of  God  ;  and  it  may  be  the  re- 
sult of  caprice,  of  partiality,  of  pride,  or  other  selfish  passions. 
Those  calls  are  most  entitled  to  consideration,  which  these 
feelings  have  the  least  concern  in  producing.  The  guardians 
of  our  public  seminaries  may  be  supposed,  from  their  situation, 
to  have  no  private  feelings  or  partialities  to  gratify  by  their  ap- 
pointments. In  ordinary  cases,  they  can  have  little  induce- 
ment to  act  for  any  other  than  the  general  good ;  and  that  will 
be  a  dark  day  for  our  land,  when  these  institutions,  the  nur- 
series of  learning  and  religion,  whence  her  future  pillars  are  to 
be  obtained,  shall  be  denied  their  claim  to  the  most  valuable 
men  whom  the  church  can  furnish. 

Much  disquiet  is  often  produced  in  a  parish  by  the  reported 
intentions  and  informal  proposals  of  a  society  abroad,  to  ''  get 
away  their  minister,"  even  when  this  imprudent  agitation  of 
the  subject  does  not  issue  in  a  formal  invitation.  The  second 
church  in  Portland  had  much  experience  of  this  species  of  tri- 
al. When  Park-street  Church,  in  Boston,  was  left  vacant  by 
the  removal  of  Dr.  Griffin,  Mr.  Payson's  charge  had  unpleas- 
ant apprehensions  of  losing  their  beloved  pastor.  It  is  in  allu- 
sion to  this  time  that  he  says  in  a  letter — "  We  have  been  kept  in 
a  fever  here,  all  this  winter,  by  perpetual  alarms  from  Boston. 
Because  I  do  not  refuse  before  I  am  asked,  and  exclaim  loudly 
against  going,  some  of  my  people  suspect  I  wish  to  go.  ...  I 
wish  "  Boston  folks"  would  be  content  with  being  "  fuU  of  no- 
tions" themselves,  and  not  fill  other  people's  heads  with  them.'' 
— It  must  greatly  endear  his  memory  to  his  surviving  flock,  to 
learn  from  another  letter  what  were  his  secret  feelings  in  rela- 
tion to  this  matter: — "  My  people — I  never  knew  before  how 
much  they  loved  me.  I  am  amazed  to  see  what  an  interest 
God  has  given  me  in  the  affections  of  his  people,  and  even  of 
sinners.  It  would  seem  like  tearing  off  limbs  to  leave  them. 
Indeed,  I  see  not  how  it  is  possible,  humanly  speaking,  to  get 
away  from  them.  I  have  not  yet  been  put  to  the  trial.  No 
application  has  yet  been  made  from  B.,  though  much  has  been 
said  about  it.     It  is  very  doubtful  whether  any  will  be  made. 


202  MEMOIR  OF 

I  feel  very  easy  about  it  myself,  but  the  church  are  in  great 
tribulation.  Ever  since  it  v^^as  first  talked  of,  I  have  taken 
special  care  to  avoid  every  thing  which  might  tend,  either  di- 
rectly or  indirectly,  to  bring  it  about.  If  it  comes,  it  shall  be 
none  of  my  seeking." 

Several  years  after  this,  he  did,  with  the  full  consent  of  his 
people,  take  up  a  temporary  residence  in  Boston,  and,  during 
the  few  weeks  which  he  spent  there,  preached  to  crowded  as- 
semblies, and  not  without  apparent  effect.  Though  the  work 
which  his  friends  there  laid  out  for  him  was  too  much  for  his 
strength,  he  was  wearied  with  solicitations  and  entreaties  to 
visit  and  preach  in  the  neighboring  towns ;  so  anxious  were 
those  who  had  once  heard  him,  to  secure  for  their  friends  and 
neighbors  a  participation  in  the  same  privilege :  and  so  confi- 
dent were  their  hopes  that  he  would  be  the  instrument  of  awak- 
ening a  general  concern  for  the  soul,  wherever  he  should  ad- 
dress to  men  the  message  with  which  he  was  intrusted. 

In  1825,  at  the  organization  of  the  new  church  in  Hanover- 
street,  he  was  invited  to  take  the  pastoral  charge  of  it.  He 
referred  the  call  to  his  own  church,  who  decided,  unanimously, 
that  he  ought  not  to  accept  it — a  decision  to  which  he  cheer- 
fully acceded. 

In  January,  1826,  he  received  a  unanimous  call  from  the 
church  in  Cedar-street,  New  York,  to  become  their  pastor. 
This  call  he  promptly,  fully,  and  unequivocally  declined.  The 
motives  by  which  he  was  actuated,  may  be  seen  from  a  letter 
to  his  mother,  written  a  few  days  afterwards.  All  classes  gave 
him  full  credit  for  disinterestedness  in  his  conduct  on  this  oc- 
casion. 

'' Portland,  Jan.  25,  1826. 
''  My  dear  Mother, 

''  Before  you  receive  this,  you  will,  probably,  have  heard  that 
I  have  returned  a  negative  answer  to  the  invitation  from  the 
Cedar-street  church.  After  refusing  to  accept  the  call  from 
Boston,  I  could  not  do  otherwise.  If  I  had  gone  to  either 
place,  I  must  have  gone  to  Boston ;  for  I  think  the  prospect  of 
usefulness  there  is  greater,  all  things  considered,  than  at  New 
York.  Besides,  I  never  would  consent  to  become  the  pastor 
of  any  church,  whose  members  had  not  heard  me  preach,  and 
become  personally  acquainted  with  me.  I  have  not  the  least 
doubt,  that,  had  I  complied  with  the  Cedar-street  invitation, 
the  first  emotions  of  the  church  and  society,  on  hearing  rne, 
would  have  been  those  of  bitter  disappointment  and  regret.  It 
is  true  that  a  removal  to  New  York,  vi^ere  I  fit  for  the  place, 
would,  on  many  accounts,  have  been  very  gratifying.     I  felt 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  263 

no  small  inclination  to  go.  I  should  like  exceedingly  to  be 
near  you  and  my  other  relations.  I  should  also  like  a  milder 
climate  than  this,  and  I  have  little  doubt  that  it  would  be  ben- 
eficial to  my  health.  But  a  removal  would  be  death  to  my 
reputation  in  this  part  of  the  country ;  I  mean  my  Christian 
reputation  ;  and,  what  is  far  worse,  it  would  bring  great  re- 
proach upon  religion.  At  present,  my  worst  enemies,  and  the 
worst  enemies  of  religion,  seem  disposed  to  allow  that  I  am 
sincere,  upright,  and  uninfluenced  by  those  motives  which 
govern  worldly-minded  men.  But  had  I  gone  to  Boston,  and, 
much  more,  should  I  now  go  to  New  York,  they  would  at 
once  triumphantly  exclaim,  **  Ah !  they  are  all  alike  ;  all  gov- 
erned by  worldly  motives  ;  they  preach  against  the  love  of 
money,  and  the  love  of  applause,  but  they  will  gratify  either 
of  those  passions,  when  a  fair  opportunity  offers."  Now,  I  had 
much  rather  die,  than  give  them  an  occasion  thus  to  speak  re- 
proachfully. It  would  be  overthrowing  all  which  I  have  been 
laboring  to  build  up.  Indeed,  I  can  see  no  reason  why  God 
should  suffer  these  repeated  invitations  to  be  sent  to  me,  un- 
less it  be  to  give  me  an  opportunity  to  show  the  world  that  all 
ministers  are  not  actuated  by  mercenary  or  ambitious  views. 
I  have  already  some  reason  to  believe,  that  my  refusal  to  ac- 
cept the  two  calls  has  done  more  to  convince  the  enemies  of 
religion,  that  there  is  a  reality  in  it,  than  a  thousand  sermons 
would  have  done.  However  this  may  be,  I  have  done  what  I 
thought  to  be  duty.  If  I  ever  felt  desirous  to  know  the  will 
of  God,  and  willing  to  obey  it,  it  has  been  in  reference  to 
these  two  cases.  Could  I  have  had  reason  to  believe,  that  it 
was  his  will,  I  would  very  gladly  have  gone  either  to  Boston 
or  to  New  York.  But,  at  present,  I  believe  that  it  was  his 
will  that  I  should  remain  where  I  am.  Not  that  I  am  of  any 
use  here  ;  but  though  I  can  do  no  good,  I  would,  if  possible, 
avoid  doing  harm." 

But  little  more  than  a  month  elapsed  before  the  invitation 
of  the  Cedar-street  church  was  repeated.  Some  changes  in 
his  circumstances  led  him  to  deliberate,  for  a  time,  whether 
this  second  invitation  might  not  be  the  call  of  Providence. 
He  considered  the  obstacles,  which  had  opposed  his  removal, 
as  diminished.  The  church  in  Hanover-street — supposing 
that  he  might  possibly  be  deterred  from  complying  with  this  in- 
vitation, by  the  fact  that  he  had  so  recently  declined  a  call 
from  them — passed  a  resolve,  with  a  view  to  remove  any  diffi- 
culties which  that  circumstance  might  have  thrown  in  his 
way,  and  wrote  a  letter,  urging  him  to  act  just  as  he  should 


264  MEMOIR  OF 

if  he  had  never  received  an  invitation  from  them.  This 
amounted  very  nearly  to  the  expression  of  an  opinion,  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  go.  He  was  evidently  much  perplexed.  On 
the  one  hand,  he  feared  "  doing  wrong,  and  oftending  God,  by 
running  before  he  was  sent."  On  the  other  hand,  the  cir- 
cumstances attending  his  reception  of  the  call,  *  induced  him 
to  believe  that  it  might,  possibly^  be  the  call  of  God  ;  and  he 
could  not  again  decline  it,  until  he  had  taken  time  for  prayer 
and  deliberation.'  "  I  have  ample  reason,"  he  writes  to  the 
commissioners  who  tendered  the  invitation,  "  to  believe  that 
God  placed  me  in  my  present  situation  ;  and  I  must,  there- 
fore, be  convinced  that  he  calls  me  away,  before  I  can  consent 
to  leave  it.  That  he  does  call  me  away,  I  am  not  yet  con- 
vinced ;  though  I  admit  it  to  be  possible." 

After  having  been  long  agitated  by  the  perplexing  ques- 
tion, it  was,  at  length,  referred  to  a  council,  mutually  chosen 
by  himself  and  his  church.  To  the  council  it  proved  almost 
as  tedious  and  trying  as  it  had  to  him.  They  were  reluctant 
to  decide  against  his  removal,  thinking  it  possible,  that  a 
change  of  climate  and  situation,  together  with  the  diminished 
necessity  of  study,  might  recruit  the  wasted  energies  of  his 
body,  and  prolong,  for  the  benefit  of  the  church,  his  most  val- 
uable and  useful  life.  On  the  other  hand,  they  found  difficul- 
ties in  the  way  of  recommending  his  removal,  which  they  were 
not  able  to  surmount,  the  principal  of  which  was  his  want  of  a 
full  and  decided  conviction  of  personal  duty  in  the  case. 
They  could,  therefore,  only  advise,  that,  if  such  should  be  his 
conviction,  and  he  should  make  it  known  to  his  church,  they 
would  consent  to  part  with  him. 

To  this  state  his  mind  had  nearly  approached,  when  its  prog- 
ress towards  conviction  was  arrested,  and  its  purpose  chang- 
ed by  increased  illness.  Symptoms  of  pulmonary  affection, 
added  to  his  other  maladies,  excited  apprehensions  that  his 
labors  on  earth  were  nearly  terminated — apprehensions  which, 
alas !  proved  to  be  but  too  well  founded.  In  May  following, 
by  the  advice  of  friends  and  physicians,  he  tried  very  thorough- 
ly the  experiment  of  riding  on  horseback,  by  making  a  jour- 
ney through  the  interior  of  Maine,  New  Hampshire,  Massa- 
chusetts, and  Connecticut,  to  New  York  city,  and  thence  to 
the  Springs,  where  his  mind  was  disturbed  by  a  third  applica- 
tion to  take  the  charge  of  Cedar-street  church,  accompanied 
with  most  pressing  letters  and  messages  from  clergymen  and 
others.  Though  this  was  declined  without  much  hesitatioUj 
yet,  in  the  excitable  state  of  his  nerves,  and  his  universal 
weakness  of  body,  it  was  injurious  to  his  welfare,  and,  combin- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  265 

ed  with  other  causes,  prevented  his  deriving  any  benefit  from 
his  journey  and  an  absence  of  two  months. 

"  The  peculiar  trials  of  mind,"  writes  the  Rev.  Mr.  Whelp- 
ley,  with  whom  he  took  lodgings, — "  The  peculiar  trials  of 
mind  he  had  passed  through,  in  consequence  of  the  invita- 
tions he  received  to  New  York  and  Boston,  well  nigh  broke 
him  down,  as  he  expressed  it,  and  greatly  aggravated  his 
complaints  and  sufferings ;  and  he  had  hoped  to  experience 
no  more  trouble  from  this  quarter.  But  no  sooner  was  it 
known  in  New  York,  that  he  was  at  the  Springs,  than  fresh 
overtures  were  sent  to  him. — *  I  wonder,'  said  he,  *  that  this 
people  will  thus  pursue  a  dying  man.  I  cannot  help  them  or 
myself — I  have  no  doubt,  from  various  expressions  of  his,  that 
the  great  efforts  made  to  effect  his  translation  to  a  new  field  of 
labor  proved  too  much  for  his  weak  frame,  and  hastened  his 
dissolution." 

The  language  ascribed  to  Mr.  Payson,  in  the  preceding  ex- 
tract, is  descriptive  of  his  own  weakness,  and  expresses  his  set- 
tled conviction  of  the  desperate  condition  of  his  health,  and 
not  any  intended  censure  of  the  people  who  were  so  persever- 
ingly  solicitous  to  secure  his  services.  He  could  fully  appreci- 
ate their  motives.  But  they  knew  not  how  delicate  and  sus- 
ceptible were  his  feelings  ;  nor  did  they  know  how  nearly  ex- 
hausted in  him  were  the  springs  of  life.  Doubtless  their  wish- 
es had  so  far  affected  their  judgment,  as  to  create  the  confi- 
dent expectation,  that  a  removal  to  a  new  field  of  action 
would  be  the  means  of  restoring  and  establishing  his  health. 
But  it  was  already  gone  past  recovery. 

That  he  was  held  in  as  high  estimation  by  the  great  and 
good,  as  by  Christians  in  the  ordinary  walks  of  life,  is  obvious 
from  the  fact,  that  he  was,  in  1821,  requested  by  persons  hav- 
ing some  control  in  the  appointment,  to  say  whether  he  would 
accept  a  professorship  in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Ando- 
ver,  if  elected  to  the  office.  But  he  refused  "  at  once,  and 
positively,  on  the  score  of  not  possessing  the  requisite  quali- 
fications. Had  I  been  suitably  qualified,  I  am  not  certain 
that  I  should  not  have  thought  it  my  duty  to  go." 

23 


266  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Letters  to  persons  in  various  circumstances  and  states  of  mind. 

Though  Mr.  Payson  was  eminently  felicitous  in  adapting 
his  public  discourses  to  the  wants  and  characters  of  a  promis- 
cuous assembly,  he  was,  if  possible,  still  more  so,  in  suiting 
his  counsels,  instructions,  and  appeals,  to  the  cases  of  individu- 
als. But  these  dictates  of  his  sanctified  understanding  and 
ardently  affectionate  heart,  are  mostly  lost ;  and  their  place  can 
be  supplied  only  by  a  selection  from  his  letters,  written  to  per- 
sons variously  situated  and  affected, — which,  though  both  in- 
teresting and  instructive,  are  far  inferior  in  imagery,  apposite- 
ness,  and  effect,  to  his  viva  voce  instructions. 

To  his  mother  under  affliction  of  spirit : — 

"My  dearest  Mother, 

"  Never  did  I  more  ardently  wish  to  impart  consolation,  and 
never  did  1  feel  so  utterly  powerless  to  do  it.  You  say  your- 
self, that  neither  reason  nor  religion  can  restrain  your  tor- 
menting imagination.  What  encouragement,  then,  have  I  to 
attempt  to  comfort  you  under  the  evils  it  occasions?  I  wish  I 
could  communicate  to  you  the  feelings  which  have  rendered 
me  happy  for  some  weeks  past.  I  will  m.ention  the  texts 
which  occasioned  them  ;  texts  on  which  I  have  preached  late- 
ly. Perhaps  the  great  Comforter  may  apply  them  to  you.  If 
so,  you  will  little  need  any  consolation  which  I  can  give. 
The  first  is  Isaiah  xxvi,  20.  The  time  of  our  continuance  on 
earth  is  but  a  moment ;  nay,  it  is  but  a  little  moment.  Sup- 
pose, then,  the  worst.  Suppose  that  all  the  evils  which  imagi- 
nation can  paint  should  come  upon  you.  They  will  endure 
only  for  a  little  moment;  and,  while  this  little  moment  is  pass- 
ing away,  you  may  run  and  hide  in  the  chambers  of  protec- 
tion, which  God  has  provided  for  his  people,  till  the  mansions 
preparing  for  them  above  are  ready  for  their  reception.  O, 
then,  my  dear  mother,  glory  in  these  afflictions,  which  endure 
but  for  a  moment,  a  little  moment.  O,  how  near,  how  very 
near,  is  eternity.     It  is  even  at  the  door. 

"New-year's  Sabbath,  I  preached  on  this  text,  "As  the 
Lord  liveth,  there  is  but  a  step  between  me  and  death."     One 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  267 

inference  was,  there  is  but  a  step  between  Christians  and  heav- 
en. So  it  has  seemed  to  me  almost  ever  since.  Another  text, 
which  J.  have  preached  on  lately,  and  which  has  been  much 
blessed  to  me,  is  Rev.  xxi.  23.  "  And  the  city  had  no  need 
of  the  sun,"  &lc.  O,  how  unutterably  glorious  did  heaven  ap- 
pear !  It  is  glort/ :  it  is  a  weight  of  glory ;  an  exceeding  iceight 
of  glory  ;  a/ar  more  exceeding  weight  of  glory  ;  z.far  more  ex- 
ceeding and  eternal  weight  of  glory.  O,  how  shall  we  bear  such 
a  weight  of  glory  as  this  !  How  shall  we  wait  with  patience  till 
we  arrive  at  it !  O,  it  seems  too  much  ;  too  boundless,  too  over- 
whelming to  think  of  Come  afflictions ;  come  troubles  ;  come 
trials,  temptations,  distresses  of  every  kind  and  degree  ;  make 
our  path  through  life  as  painful,  as  wearisome  as  you  can  ;  still, 
if  heaven  is  at  the  end  of  it,  we  will  smile  at  all  you  can  do. 
My  dear  mother,  break  away  ;  O  that  God  would  enable  you 
to  break  away  from  all  your  cares  and  sorrows,  and  fly,  rise, 
soar  up  to  the  New  Jerusalem.  See  its  diamond  walls,  its 
golden  streets,  its  pearly  gates,  its  shining  inhabitants,  all  in  a 
blaze  with  reflected  light  and  glory,  the  light  of  God,  the  glory 
of  the  Lamb  !  Say  with  David,  Toward  this  city  I  will  go  in 
the  strength  of  the  Lord  God  ;  I  will  make  mention  of  thy 
righteousness,  even  of  thine  only.  My  mother,  what  a  righ- 
teousness is  this  ?  The  righteousness  of  God  !  A  righteous- 
ness as  much  better  than  that  of  Adam,  nay,  than  that  of 
angels,  as  God  is  better  than  his  creatures.  Since,  then,  my 
dear  mother,  you  have  such  a  heaven  before  you  ;  such  a 
righteousness  to  entitle  you  to  heaven  ;  and  such  blessed 
chambers  to  hide  in,  during  the  little  moment  which  separates 
you  from  heaven, — dry  up  your  tears,  banish  your  anxieties, 
leave  sorrow  and  sighing  to  those  who  have  no  such  blessings 
in  store  or  reversion,  and  sing,  sing,  as  Noah  sat  secure  in  the 
ark,  and  sang  *  the  grace  that  steered  him  through.' 


"  I  would  urge  father  to  be  more  careful  of  himself,  if  I 
thought  it  would  do  any  good ;  but  it  will  not.  The  nearer  he 
gets  to  his  sun,  his  centre,  the  end  of  his  course,  the  faster  he 
will  fly,  and  you  cannot  stop  him.  Catch  hold  of  him,  and  fly 
with  him,  and  I  will  come  panting  after  as  fast  as  I  can." 

To  a  kinsman,  in  an  important  crisis  of  his  religious  expe- 
rience : — 


**  In    your  present   situation,   and  for  some  time  to 

come,  your  greatest  difficulty  will  be,  to  maintain  the  daily 


268  MEMOIR  OF 

performance  of  closet  duties.  On  your  maintaining  that  part, 
the  fate  of  the  whole  battle  will  turn.  This  your  great  adver- 
sary well  knows.  He  knows,  that  if  he  can  beat  you  out  of 
the  closet,  he  shall  have  you  in  his  own  power.  You  will  be 
in  the  situation  of  an  army  cut  off  from  supplies  and  reenforce- 
ments,  and  will  be  obliged  either  to  capitulate,  or  to  surrender 
at  discretion.  He  will,  therefore,  leave  no  means  untried  to 
drive  or  draw  you  from  the  closet.  And  it  will  be  hard  work 
to  maintain  that  post  against  him  and  your  own  heart.  Some- 
times he  will  probably  assail  you  with  more  violence,  when 
you  attempt  to  read  or  pray,  than  at  any  other  time ;  and  thus 
try  to  persuade  you  that  prayer  is  rather  injurious  than  benefi- 
cial. At  other  times,  he  will  withdraw,  and  lie  quiet,  lest,  if  he 
should  distress  you  with  his  temptation,  you  might  be  driven 
to  the  throne  of  grace  for  help.  If  he  can  prevail  upon  us  to 
be  careless  and  stupid,  he  will  rarely  distress  us.  He  will  not 
disturb  a  false  peace,  because  it  is  a  peace  of  which  he  is  the 
author.  But  if  he  cannot  succeed  in  lulling  us  asleep,  he  will 
do  all  in  his  power  to  distress  us.  And  when  he  is  permitted 
to  do  this,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  withdraws  his  sensible  aid  and 
consolations ;  when,  though  we  cry  and  shout,  God  seems  to 
shut  out  our  prayers, — it  is  by  no  means  easy  to  be  constant  in 
secret  duties.  Indeed,  it  is  always  most  difficult  to  attend  to 
them  when  they  are  most  necessary.  But  never  mind.  Your 
Lord  and  Master  is  looking  on.  He  notices,  he  accepts,  and 
he  will  reward  every  struggle.  Besides,  in  the  Christian  war- 
fare, to  maintain  the  conflict,  is  to  gain  the  victory.  The 
promise  is  made  to  him  that  endures  to  the  end.  The  object 
of  our  spiritual  adversaries,  then,  is  to  prevent  us  from  endur- 
ing to  the  end.  If  they  fail  of  effecting  this  object,  they  are 
defeated.  Every  day  in  which  you  are  preserved  from  going 
back,  they  sustain  a  defeat.  And  if,  by  praying  yesterday, 
you  gained  strength  enough  to  pray  to-day  ;  and  if,  by  praying 
to-day,  you  gain  strength  enough  to  pray  again  to-morrow,  you 
have  cause  for  thankfulness.  If  the  food  which  you  take  eve- 
ry day  nourishes  you  for  one  day,  you  are  satisfied.  You  do 
not  expect  that  the  food  you  ate  yesterday  will  nourish  you  to- 
day. Do  not  complain,  then,  if  you  find  it  necessary  to  ask 
every  day  for  fresh  supplies  of  spiritual  nourishment ;  and  do 
not  think  your  prayers  are  unanswered,  so  long  as  you  are 
enabled  to  struggle  on,  even  though  it  should  be  with  pain 
and  difficulty.  Every  day  I  see  more  clearly  how  great  a 
mercy  it  is  to  be  kept  from  open  sin  and  from  complete  apos- 
tasy.    If  you  are  thus  kept,  be  thankful  for  it." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  269 

To  a  gentleman  in  a  neighboring  state,  whose  hospitality 
he  had  enjojed  while  on  a  journey  for  his  health,  and  who 
has  since  yielded  to  the  expostulations  of  his  revered  friend, 
and  is  now  numbered  with  the  people  of  God  : — 

"  The  unvarying  kindness  and  hospitality,  with  which  I 
was  treated  while  at  your  house,  has  left  an  impression  upon 
my  mind,  and  laid  me  under  obligations,  which,  I  trust,  will 
never  be  forgotten.  In  addition  to  this,  the  apparent  interest 
with  which  you  listened  to  remarks  on  religious  subjects,  and 
your  request  that  I  would  write  to  you  and  pray  for  you,  have 
led  me  to  feel  a  more  than  ordinary  concern  for  your  future 
welfare.  It  is  this  which  induces  me  to  write — yet  I  must 
confess  that  I  write  with  trembling.  The  numerous  instances 
in  which  I  have  seen  religious  impressions  fade  away,  lead 
me  to  fear  that,  ere  this,  the  subject  may  have  ceased  to  ap- 
pear interesting  to  you,  and  that  you  will  not  thank  me  for 
troubling  you  with  this  letter.  But  I  will,  for  the  present, 
hope  better  things,  and,  under  the  influence  of  such  a  hope, 
will  venture  to  write.  Yet  what  shall  I  say,  ignorant  as  I  am 
of  the  present  state  of  your  mind,  and,  of  course,  equally  ig- 
norant of  what  it  requires  ?  I  have  been  imploring  that  om- 
niscient Being,  who  is  perfectly  acquainted  with  it,  to  guide 
my  pen,  and  lead  me  to  write  something  which  may  prove  '  a 
word  in  season.'  Should  he  grant  me  this,  it  would  be  a  favor 
indeed. 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  address  you  as  a  Christian.  Perhaps 
you  have,  ere  this,  become  a  cordial,  decided  disciple  of  Jesus 
Christ.  I  am  not  entirely  without  hope  that  this  is  the  case. 
Few  things  could  give  me  more  pleasure  than  to  be  assured 
that  it  is  so.  If  it  is,  you  will  need  no  exhortations  from  me 
to  pursue  a  course  which  you  have  already  found  to  be  '  ways 
of  pleasantness  and  paths  of  peace.'  If  it  is,  you  have  already 
'  tasted  and  seen  that  the  Lord  is  good  ;'  you  know  his  good- 
ness, not  speculatively,  or  by  report  merely,  but  experimental- 
ly ;  and  you  can  address  the  Saviour  in  the  language  of  Peter 
— '  I  believe  and  am  sure  that  thou  art  the  Christ,  the  Son  of 
the  living  God.'  But,  if  this  is  not  the  case,  if  your  mind  re- 
mains in  the  same  state  in  which  I  left  it,  the  following  hints 
may  possibly  prove  serviceable  : — 

"  God,  as  a  wise  Being,  employs  means  and  instruments 
suited  to  the  work  which  he  designs  to  perform.  He  never 
employs  powerful  means,  or  dignified  agents,  to  effect  a  work 
which  might  as  well  be  effected  by  weak  means  and  feeble 
agents.  He  would  not  employ  an  angel  to  do  the  work  of  a 
23* 


270  MEMOIR  OF 

man ;  he  would  not  send  his  only  Son  to  perform  works  which 
did  not  transcend  the  powers  of  an  angel.  Hence  we  may 
infer,  that,  if  men  or  angels  could  have  effected  the  work  of 
man's  redemption,  God  would  not  have  employed  his  own  Son 
to  effect  it ;  and,  if  that  Son  could  have  effected  it  in  any 
easier  way  than  by  dying  on  the  cross,  he  would  never  have 
consented  to  die  in  that  manner.  Consider,  then,  my  dear 
sir,  how  great  a  work  this  must  have  been.  To  create  the 
world  cost  Jesus  Christ  but  six  days ;  but  to  redeem  the  world 
cost  him  thirty-three  years,  spent  in  poverty  and  labor,  and 
the  shedding  of  his  own  blood.  How  great,  then,  must  have 
been  the  evils  from  which  he  did  all  this  to  redeem  us  !  How 
terrible  must  be  the  situation  of  sinners,  since  he  suffered  so 
much  to  rescue  them  from  it !  From  the  dignity  of  the  Phy- 
sician, and  the  costliness  of  the  remedy,  we  may  learn  how 
dangerous,  how  desperate,  was  the  disease.  Ordy  let  a  man 
say,  with  firm  conviction, — *  My  situation  was  so  dangerous,  so 
hopeless,  that  nothing  less  than  the  incarnation  and  death  of 
God's  eternal  Son  could  save  me  from  it,'  and  he  will  scarcely 
remain  at  rest  until  he  has  secured  salvation.  He  will  not, 
cannot  rest  in  a  situation  so  dangerous. 

"  But  these  facts  and  inferences,  obvious  as  they  are,  we 
are  prone  to  overlook.  There  is  a  species  of  religion  which 
appears  to  us  much  more  rational  and  agreeable  than  the  doc- 
trines of  the  cross.  It  is,  indeed,  little  better  than  deism  ;  for 
Christ  has  almost  no  place  in  it.  It  may,  therefore,  be  useful 
to  attend  to  such  passages  as  these  : — *  All  men  should  honor 
the  Son,  even  as  they  honor  the  Father  :' — *  He  that  honoreth 
not  the  Son,  honoreth  not  the  Father  :' — *  He  that  denieth  the 
Son,  hath  not  the  Father.'  Christ  says — '  No  man  cometh  to 
the  Father  but  by  me  :' — *  In  him  dwells  all  the  fulness  of  the 
Godhead  bodily.'  Now,  if  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead 
dwells  in  Christ,  no  man  can  obtain  any  portion  of  that  ful- 
ness without  applying  to  Christ.  In  a  word,  Christ's  language 
is — *  Without  me  ye  can  do  nothing.'  Never,  then,  shall  we 
do  any  thing  successfully  in  religion,  unless  we  apply  for  and 
obtain  this  assistance.  We  must  begin  with  Christ.  He  is 
the  Author  and  Finisher  of  our  faith. 

"  I  have  written  at  random,  and  in  the  dark  respecting  your 
present  feelings.  I  can  scarcely  hope  that  these  broken  hints 
will  be  of  any  service.  But  they  will,  at  least,  serve  as  a  proof 
that  I  have  not  forgotten  your  kindness,  and  that  I  feel  an  in- 
terest in  your  welfare.  This  interest  is  deeper  than  you  are, 
perhaps,  aware.  It  would  gratify  me  much  to  hear  from  you, 
and  still  more  to  hear  that  you  are  *  rejoicing  in  the  truth.'    Be 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  271 

pleased  to  remember  me  respectfully  and  affectionately  to  Mrs. 

.     I  have  not  forgotten  her  kindness.    Our  journey,  after 

we  left  you,  was  tolerably  pleasant,  but  of  little  service  to  my 
health.  ***«'*  May  we  all  meet  in  heaven,  is  the 
frequent  prayer  of 

"  Yours  sincerely." 

To  a  distant  lady,  in  whose  piety  he  had  full  confidence, 
but  who  was  much  discouraged  respecting  herself: — 


'^  My  dear  Mrs. . 

"  What  a  task  you  have  imposed  on  me  !  You  require  me 
to  write  you  a  letter  which  shall  make  you  feel,  and  yet  you 
tell  me  that  the  Bible,  the  letter  which  God  himself  has  sent 
to  you  from  heaven,  does  not  make  you  feel.  If  I  believed 
this  to  be  the  case,  could  I  write  with  any  hope  of  success  ? 
Could  I  hope  to  affect  a  heart  which  a  message  from  heaven 
does  not  affect  ?  But  I  do  not,  cannot  believe  that  this  mes- 
sage has  failed  to  affect  you.  Your  letter  to  Mrs.  P.  contains 
proof  that  it  has  not.  In  that  letter  you  say — *  I  hate  myself 
while  I  write.'  But  hatred  of  one's  self,  or  self-abhorrence,  is 
one  of  the  constituent  parts  of  true  repentance.  No  one  but 
the  real  penitent,  no  one  who  is  not  a  Christian,  hates  himself. 
He  who  abhors  himself  sees  and  feels  it  to  be  right  that  God 
should  abhor  him.  He  can,  accordingly,  take  part  with  God 
against  himself — ^justify  God  while  he  reproaches  and  con- 
demns himself  And  he  who  can  do  this  is  prepared  to  em- 
brace the  gospel,  to  receive  it  as  glad  tidings  of  great  joy. 
Are  you  not  then,  my  dear  madam,  proved  to  be  a  Christian 
out  of  your  own  mouth  ?  If  you  do  not  choose  to  yield  to 
proof  from  that  source,  let  me  request  you  to  come  with  me 
to  the  mount  of  transfiguration.  We  may,  like  the  disciples, 
feel  emotions  of  fear  as  we  enter  the  bright  cloud  which  over- 
shadows it,  but  we  have  no  reason  to  entertain  such  emotions. 
Now  contemplate  him  who  stood  on  the  summit,  in  the  midst 
of  this  bright  cloud.  See  his  countenance,  shining  like  the 
sun,  and  his  raiment,  white  as  the  light.  See  all  the  fulness 
of  the  Godhead  dwelling  in  him,  diffusing  itself  around.  Hear 
the  awful  voice  of  the  eternal  Father,  proclaiming — *  This  is 
my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased  ;  hear  ye  him.' 
Recollect  all  that  you  have  heard  and  read  of  the  Being  be- 
fore you.  Think  of  his  power  to  save,  of  his  willingness  to 
save,  of  his  delight  in  saving  sinners.  And  now,  what  does 
your  heart  say  to  all  this  ?     What  reply  does  it  make  when 


272  MEMOIR  OF 

the  Saviour,  turning  upon  you  a  look  full  of  invitation,  benev- 
olence, and  compassion,  says  to  you — Fear  not,  Mary,  to  ap- 
proach me  ;  I  am  come  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was 
lost :  shall  I  save  thee  ?  Wilt  thou  consent  to  have  me  for 
thy  Saviour  upon  my  own  terms  ?  Wilt  thou  believe  that 
I  am  disposed  to  look  with  an  eye  of  pity  on  thy  struggles 
against  sin,  and  to  assist  thee  in  overcoming  it  ?  Wilt  thou 
believe  that  I  can  bear  with  thee,  forgive  thee,  have  patience 
with  thee,  and  never  be  weary  of  instructing  thee,  reclaiming 
thee,  and  leading  thee  forward  in  the  way  to  heaven  ? — And 
now,  my  dear  madam,  let  me  ask,  once  more.  What  reply  does 
your  heart  make  to  this  language  ?  Does  it  not  say,  with 
Peter, — *  Lord,  it  is  good  to  be  here' — it  is  good  to  sit  at  thy 
feet,  and  hear  thy  word ;  I  believe,  I  am  sure,  that  thou  art  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God  ? — If  this  is  the  language  of 
j^our  heart,  he  does,  in  effect,  say  to  you — ^  Blessed  art  thou, 
Mary-Ann  ;  for  flesh  and  blood  have  not  revealed  this  unto 
thee,  but  my  Father,  who  is  in  heaven.'  Blessed  art  thou,  for 
thou  hast  chosen  the  good  part,  and  it  shall  never  be  taken 
from  thee. — But  perhaps  you  will  say — for  you  have  to  dispute 
against  yourself — *  I  believe  nothing,  feel  nothing,  of  all  this.' 
Let  me,  then,  make  another  trial.  St.  Paul,  speaking  of  an- 
cient believers,  says — *  If  they  had  been  mindful  of  the  coun- 
try whence  they  came  out,  they  might  have  had  opportunity 
to  return  thither  ;  but  they  desired  another  country,  even  a 
heavenly  ;  wherefore,  God  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  their 
God.'  Now  permit  me  to  apply  this  passage  to  your  case. 
If  you  are  mindful  of  the  world,  if  you  wish  to  return  to  that 
careless,  sinful  state  of  conformity  to  it,  from  which  you  are 
professedly  come  out,  you  have  opportunity  to  return  to  it ; 
there  is  nothing  to  prevent  you.  But  can  you  say  that  you 
wish  to  return  ?  Can  you  deny  that  you  desire  a  better  coun- 
try, even  a  heavenly  ?  If  you  do  desire  it,  if  you  have  no 
wish  to  return  to  the  service  of  sin,  then  God  is  not  ashamed 
to  be  called  your  God  ;  and,  if  he  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called 
your  God,  then  you  ought  not  to  be  afraid  to  call  him  so  ;  but 
ought  to  approach  him  with  confidence,  crying,  *  My  Father  ! 
my  God^!'  " 

The  following  letter  of  condolence  to  his  bereaved  parents 
contains  some  reminiscences  of  a  most  valuable  woman,  which 
ought  to  be  preserved,  and  which  will  be  gladly  recognised 
by  great  numbers,  to  whom  she  was  endeared  by  "  the  good 
works  and  alms-deeds  which  she  did  :" — 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  273 

"My  dear  afflicted  Parents,  May^,  1818. 

"  You  will  probably  hear  from  poor  brother  Rand,  before 
you  receive  this  letter,  that  you  have  one  child  less  on  earth, 
to  comfort  you  in  the  decline  of  life ;  that  dear,  dear  Grata 
has  gone  before  you  to  heaven.  I  cannot  hope  to  console  you  ; 
but  I  do  hope  that  your  surviving  children  will  feel  bound  to 
do  every  thing  in  their  power  to  make  up  your  loss,  by  increas- 
ed filial  aftection,  and  concern  for  your  happiness.  I  cannot 
mourn  for  Grata.  How  much  suffering  of  body  and  mind  has 
she  escaped  by  her  early  departure  !  But  I  mourn  for  poor  broth- 
er Rand,  for  his  motherless  children,  and  for  you.  It  would  be 
some  consolation  to  you,  could  you  know  how  much  she  was 
beloved,  how  greatly  her  loss  is  lamented,  how  much  good  she 
did,  and  how  loudly  she  is  praised  by  all  who  knew  her.  I 
doubt  not  that  hundreds  mourn  for  her,  and  feel  her  loss 
almost  or  quite  as  much  as  do  her  relatives.  Mr.  H.,  who 
preached  her  funeral  sermon,  gave  her  a  most  exalted  charac- 
ter; and  a  young  lady,  who  resided  a  few  weeks  in  Mr.  Rand's 
family,  speaks  of  her,  every  where,  as  the  most  faultless  person 
with  whom  she  was  ever  acquainted. 

"  Many,  many  prayers  have  been  offered  up,  both  here  and 
at  Gorham,  that  you  may  be  supported  and  comforted,  when 
the  tidings  reach  you ;  and  I  hope  and  trust  they  will  be  an- 
swered. Thanks  be  to  God,  that  you  are  loved  and  blessed  by 
many  who  never  saw  you,  on  account  of  your  children.  Mr. 
Rand  feels  great  hopes  that  her  loss  will  be  blessed  to  his  church 
and  people ;  and  that  she  will  do  more  good  in  her  death,  than 
she  has  done  in  her  life ;  and  from  what  I  saw  at  the  funeral, 
I  cannot  but  indulge  similar  hopes.  You  will  wish  to  know 
how  he  bears  the  loss ;  but  I  can  hardly  tell.  When  I  saw 
him,  he  had  been  in  a  state  of  confusion,  and  surrounded  by 
his  mourning  people,  from  the  moment  of  her  death ;  so  that, 
as  he  more  than  once  observed,  he  could  scarcely  realize  that 
she  was  dead,  or  tell  how  he  felt.  The  worst  is  yet  to  come ; 
but  I  doubt  not  he  will  be  supported.  I  hope,  too,  that  her 
loss  will  do  me  some  good.  The  suddenness  of  her  departure 
makes  the  other  world  appear  very  near ;  and  she  seems  as 
much,  and  even  more  alive,  than  she  did  before.  I  preached 
with  reference  to  the  subject  yesterday  ;  and  could  not  but 
hope  that  her  death  might  be  blessed  to  some  of  my  people,  or, 
at  least,  to  some  of  the  church." 

To  two  of  his  flock,  who,  in  their  absence  from  home,  were 
to  receive,  with  this  letter,  the  afflicting  intelligence  of  the 
death  of  their  only  child  : — * 

*  Chrislian  Spectator  for  March,  1830. 


274  MEMOIR  OF 

"My  dear  brother  and  sister  in  Christ,  and  now  brother  and 
sister  in  affliction,  the  letters  which  accompany  this  will  inform 
you  why  I  write.  I  see  and  share  in  the  poignant  grief  which 
those  letters  occasion  ;  nor  would  I  rudely  interrupt  it.  I  will 
sit  down  and  weep  with  you  in  silence  for  a  while  ;  and  when 
the  first  gush  of  wounded  affection  is  past ;  when  the  tribute 
which  nature  demands,  and  which  religion  does  not  forbid,  has 
been  paid  to  the  memory  of  your  dear  departed  babe,  I  will  at- 
tempt to  whisper  a  word  of  consolation.  May  the  "  God  of  all 
consolation"  make  it  such.  Were  I  writing  to  parents  who 
know  nothing  of  religion,  I  should  indeed  despair  of  affording 
you  any  consolation.  My  task  would  be  difficult  indeed,  nor 
should  I  know  what  to  say.  I  could  only  tell  them  of  a  God 
whom  they  had  never  known,  of  a  Saviour  with  whom  they 
had  formed  no  acquaintance,  of  a  Comforter  whose  consoling 
power  they  had  never  experienced,  of  a  Bible  from  whose  rich 
treasures  they  had  never  been  taught  to  derive  support.  But 
in  writing  to  you,  my  only  difficulty  is  of  a  very  different  kind. 
It  consists  in  selecting  from  the  innumerable  topics  of  consola- 
tion contained  in  the  Scriptures,  those  which  are  best  adapted 
to  your  peculiar  situation.  So  numerous  are  they,  that  I  know 
not  which  to  mention  or  which  to  omit.  May  God  guide  my 
choice  and  direct  my  pen.  It  is  needless,  in  writing  to  Chris- 
tian parents,  to  you,  to  enlarge  on  the  common  topics  of  con- 
solation. I  need  not  tell  you  ivlw  has  done  this, — who  it  is 
that  gives  and  takes  away.  I  need  not  tell  you,  that  "  whom  the 
Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  he 
receiveth."  I  need  not  tell  you  of  the  great  duties  of  resigna- 
tion and  submission,  for  you  have  long  been  learning  them  in 
a  painful  but  salutary  school.  And  need  I  tell  you  that  he 
who  inflicts  your  sufferings,  knows  their  number  and  weight, 
knows  all  the  pain  you  feel,  and  sympathizes  with  you  even  as 
you  once  sympathized  with  your  dear  babe  ;  for  as  a  father 
pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him. 
O  think  of  this  ;  the  pity,  the  parental  pity,  of  a  God.  Who 
would  not  willingly  be  afflicted  to  be  thus  pitied !  Go  then,  my 
dear  brother  and  sister,  and  lean  with  sweet  confiding  love  up- 
on the  bosom  of  this  pitying,  sympathizing  Friend  ;  there  depos- 
it all  your  sorrows,  and  hear  him  saying,  The  cup  which  I  give 
you,  my  children,  will  you  not  drink  it?  Remember  he  knows 
all  its  bitterness.  He  himself  mentions  the  grief  of  parents 
mourning  for  a  first  born  and  only  child  as  exceedingly  great. 
Remember  too,  that  taking  this  bitter  cup  with  cheerfulness 
from  your  Father's  hand,  will  be  considered  by  him  as  an 
unequivocal  token  of  your  fflial  affection.     **  Now  I  know  that 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  275 

thou  lovest  me,"  said  he  to  Abraham, "  seeing  thou  hast  not 
withheld  thy  son,  thine  only  son  from  me."  It  requires  the 
same  kind  of  grace,  if  not  the  same  degree  of  grace,  to  resign 
a  child  willingly  to  God,  as  to  sacrifice  it  on  the  altar ;  and  if 
you  are  enabled  thus  to  resign  your  babe,  God  will  say  to  you, 
Now  I  know  that  ye  love  me,  seeing  ye  withheld  not  your  child, 
your  only  child,  from  me.  If  at  times,  when  "  all  the  parent 
rises  in  your  bosoms,"  these  consolations  should  prove  insuffi- 
cient to  quiet  your  sorrows,  think  on  what  is  the  situation  and 
employment  of  your  dear  departed  child.  She  is  doubtless 
praising  God ;  and,  next  to  the  gift  of  Christ,  she  probably 
praises  him  for  giving  her  parents  who  prayed  for  her  and 
dedicated  her  to  God.  She  now  knows  all  that  you  did  for 
her,  and  loves  and  thanks  you  for  it,  and  will  love  and  thank 
you  forever;  for  though  natural  ties  are  dissolved  by  death,  yet 
those  spiritual  ties  which  unite  you  and  your  child,  will  last 
long  as  eternity.  She  has  performed  all  the  work,  and  done 
all  the  good,  for  which  she  was  sent  to  us,  and  thus  fulfilled 
the  end  of  her  earthly  existence ;  and  if  you  have  been  the 
means  of  bringing  into  being  a  little  immortal,  who  had  just 
lighted  on  these  shores,  and  then  took  her  flight  to  heaven,  you 
have  reason  to  be  thankful ;  for  it  is  an  honor  and  a  favor. 
Neither  your  existence  nor  your  union  have  been  in  vain,  since 
you  have  been  the  instruments  of  adding  one  more  blest  voice 
to  the  choirs  above.  But  I  must  close.  May  God  bless  you, 
support  and  restore  you  to  us  in  safety,  is  the  prayer  of  your 
affectionate  friend  and  pastor, 

"  Edward  Payson." 

A  letter  of  counsel  to  a  candidate  for  the  ministry  : — 

*'  My  dear  Brother,  * 

"  I  rejoice  to  learn  that  you  are  in  part  released  from  the 
bondage  in  which  you  have  been  so  long  held.  That  you  are 
released,  I  infer,  first,  from  the  fact  that  you  are  preaching ; 
and,  secondly,  from  your  having  written  me  a  letter. — But  what 
a  request  does  your  letter  contain ! — That  I  should  write  to 
you  systematically  !  /,  who  never  did  any  thing  systematically 
in  my  life,  but  have  always  lived  extempore  !  If  I  write  to  you, 
it  must  be  in  the  same  way. — It  will  be  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world  to  give  you  plenty  of  good  advice.  All  the  difficulty  will 
be,  to  make  you  follow  it.  If  you  are  like  me,  you  will  never 
learn  any  thing  to  any  purpose,  till  it  is  beaten  into  you  by 
painful  experience ;  and  even  then,  you  will  probably  forget 
it  in  a  tenth  part  of  the  timei  which  it  took  you  to  learn  it. 


276  MEMOIR  OF 

However,  I  will  tell  you  one  thing,  which  experience  has 
taught  me.  If  you  will  believe  it,  on  my  word,  it  will  save  you 
some  suffering.  If  not,  you  must  learn  it,  as  I  did,  under  the 
scourge. 

"  Some  time  since,  I  took  up  a  little  work,  purporting  to  be 
the  lives  of  sundry  characters,  as  related  by  themselves.  Two 
of  those  characters  agreed  in  remarking,  that  they  were  never 
happy  until  they  ceased  striving  to  be  great  men.  This  re- 
mark struck  me,  as  you  know  the  most  simple  remarks  will 
strike  us,  when  Heaven  pleases.  It  occurred  to  me  at  once, 
that  most  of  my  sins  and  sufferings  were  occasioned  by  an  un- 
willingness to  be  the  nothing  which  I  am,  and  by  consequent 
struggles  to  be  something.  I  saw  that  if  I  would  but  cease 
struggling,  and  consent  to  be  any  thing,  or  nothing,  just  as 
God  pleases,  I  might  be  happy.  You  will  think  it  strange, 
that  I  mention  this  as  a  new  discovery.  In  one  sense,  it  was 
not  new ;  I  had  known  it  for  years.  But  I  now  saw  it  in  a 
new  light.  My  heart  saw  it,  and  consented  to  it ;  and  I  am 
comparatively  happy.  My  dear  brother,  if  you  can  give  up  all 
desire  to  be  great,  and  feel  heartily  willing  to  be  nothing,  you 
will  be  happy  too.  You  must  not  even  wish  to  be  a  great 
Christian ;  that  is,  you  must  not  wish  to  make  great  attain- 
ments in  religion,  for  the  sake  of  knowing  that  you  have  made, 
or  for  the  sake  of  having  others  think  that  you  have  made 
them.  -  Very  true,  and  very  good,  you  will  say,  though  some- 
what trite ;  but  how  am  I  to  bring  myself  to  such  a  state  ?  Let 
me  ask,  in  reply,  why  you  are  not  troubled,  when  you  see  one 
man  receive  military,  and  another  masonic  honors  ?  Why  are 
you  not  unhappy,  because  you  cannot  be  a  colonel,  a  general, 
or  a  most  worshipful  grand  high  priest.  Because,  you  answer, 
I  have  no  desire  for  these  titles  or  distinctions.  And  why  do 
you  not  desire  them  ?  Simply  because  you  are  not  running  a 
race  in  competition  with  those  who  obtain  them.  You  stand 
aside,  and  say.  Let  those  who  wish  for  these  things  have  them. 
Now  if  you  can,  in  a  similar  manner,  give  up  all  competition 
with  respect  to  other  objects  ;  if  you  can  stand  aside  from  the 
race  which  too  many  ministers  are  running,  and  say,  from  your 
heart,  *  Let  those  who  choose  to  engage  in  such  a  race  divide 
the  prize;  let  one  minister  run  away  with  the  money,  and 
another  with  the  esteem,  and  a  third  with  the  applause,  &c. 
&c.  ;  I  have  something  else  to  do ;  a  different  race  to  run ; 
be  God's  approbation  the  only  prize  for  which  I  run ;  let  me 
obtain  that,  and  it  is  enough  ;" — I  say,  if  you  can,  from  the 
heart,  adopt  this  language,  you  will  find  most  of  your  difficul- 
ties and  sufferings  vanish.     But  it  is  hard  to  say  this.     It  is 


EDWARD  PxlYSON.  277 

almost  impossible  to  persuade  any  man  to  renounce  the  race, 
without  cutting  off  his  feet,  or,  at  least,  fettering  him.  This 
God  has  done  lor  me ;  this  he  has  been  doing  for  you.  And 
you  will,  one  day,  if  you  do  not  now,  bless  him  for  all  your 
sufferings,  as  I  do  for  mine.  I  have  not  suffered  one  pang 
too  much.  God  was  never  more  kind  than  when  I  thought 
him  most  unkind ;  never  more  faithful  than  when  I  was  ready 
to  say,  His  faithfulness  has  failed.  Let  him  fetter  you,  then, 
if  he  pleases.  Consent  that  he  should  cut  off  your  feet,  if  he 
pleases.  Any  thing  is  a  blessing  which  prevents  us  from  run- 
ning the  fatal  race,  which  we  are  so  prone  to  run ;  which  first 
convinces  us  that  we  are  nothing,  and  then  makes  us  willing 
to  be  so." 

To  an  aged  mother,  suffering  great  anxiety  on  account  of 
the  disheartened  and  comfortless  condition  of  her  son  : — 

*'  You  give  yourself  too  much  trouble  about  P.  After  you 
have  prayed  for  him,  as  you  have  done,  and  committed  him 
to  God,  should  you  not  cease  to  feel  anxious  respecting  him  ? 
The  command,  *^  Be  careful  for  nothing,'^  is  unlimited ;  and 
so  is  the  expression  **  casting  all  your  care  upon  him."  If 
we  cast  our  burdens  upon  another,  can  they  continue  to 
press  upon  us?  If  we  bring  them  away  with  us  from  the 
throne  of  grace,  it  is  evident  we  do  not  leave  them  there. 
With  respect  to  myself,  I  have  made  this  one  test  of  my  pray- 
ers. If,  after  committing  any  thing  to  God,  I  can,  like  Han- 
nah, come  away,  and  have  my  countenance  no  more  sad,  my 
heart  no  more  pained,  or  anxious,  I  look  upon  it  as  one  proof . 
that  I  prayed  in  faith ;  but,  if  I  bring  away  my  burden,  I  con- 
clude that  faith  was  not  in  exercise.  If  God  has  any  work  for 
P.  to  do,  he  will  cause  him  to  do  it.  He  made  him,  as  he 
made  every  thing  else,  for  his  own  glory,  and  he  will  cause  his 
glory  to  be  promoted  by  him.  Of  course,  I  should  not  urge 
this  as  a  reason,  for  neglecting  to  counsel  or  pray  for  him ;  but 
as  a  reason  why,  when  we  have  performed  these  duties,  we 
should  be  free  from  all  care  and  anxiety  respecting  the  event. 
— The  case  of  Cowper,  which  you  feared  would  do  me  hurt, 
did  me  much  good.  It  led  to  such  reflections  as  these  : — If 
God  could,  without  injury  to  himself,  or  his  cause,  suffer  such 
a  mind  as  that  of  Cowper  to  rust  in  inaction,  to  be  fettered  by 
nervous  difficulties  and  temptations,  or  to  be  uselessly  employ- 
ed for  ten  years  together  in  translating  a  pagan  poet,  is  it  any 
wonder,  that  he  should  leave  my  little  mind  to  be  fettered  and 
crippled,  and  my  time  to  pass  away  in  a  useless  manner  ?  Af^ 
24 


278  MEMOIR  OF 

ter  all,  I  am  treated  more  favorably  than  he  was ;  and  I  de- 
sire to  be  thankful  that  it  is  no  worse  with  me.  You  may 
make  similar  reflections  respecting  P's  case.  Should  God 
leave  him  in  his  present  state  all  his  days,  it  would  be  nothing 
new  in  the  history  of  his  dealings  with  his  people.  And  you 
will  allow  that  he  has  a  right  to  do  it,  and  that  he  will  not  do 
it  unless  it  is  for  the  best.  Where,  then,  is  any  reason  for 
anxiety  ?  I  should  like,  indeed,  to  have  God  make  use  of  me 
to  do  great  things ;  and  you  would  like  to  have  him  employ  P. 
to  do  great  things ;  but  if  he  chooses  to  leave  us  both  crippled 
and  useless,  we  must  submit." 

To  the  Rev.  Daniel  Temple,  missionary  to  Western  Asia  : — 

"  Portland,  Oct.  13,  1822. 
"My  dear  Brother, 

"  I  dare  not  decline  the  correspondence  which  you  propose. 
The  common  rules  of  civility,  to  say  nothing  of  Christian  af- 
fection, forbid  it.  Yet  I  do  not  engage  in  such  a  correspond- 
ence without  reluctance.  I  feel  none  of  the  confidence  which 
you  express,  that  it  will  prove  beneficial  to  you.  Did  your 
sphere  of  action  resemble  mine,  it  is  barely  possible  that  I 
might  suggest  some  hints  which  would  be  useful.  But  the  sit- 
uation of  a  missionary  in  Palestine  differs  so  widely  from  that 
of  a  minister  in  a  Christian  country,  that  no  advice  which  I 
can  give  would  afford  you  any  assistance.  And  the  distance 
between  us  increases  my  unwillingness  to  write.  Almost  any 
thing  in  the  form  of  a  letter  might  answer,  were  it  to  be  sent 
only  a  few  miles ;  but  a  letter  which  is  to  cross  the  seas,  which 
is  to  go  to  Palestine,  ought  surely  to  contain  something  worth 
reading.  Even  gold  and  silver  are  almost  too  bulky  to  be  sent 
so  far.  Such  a  letter  should  resemble  bank  notes,  or  bills  of 
exchange.  But  such  a  letter  I  have  no  hopes  of  writing.  The 
faculty  of  condensing  much  in  a  small  compass,  is  one  of  the 
many  faculties  which  I  do  not  possess.  However,  I  will  write. 
May  he  who  knows  in  what  circumstances  this  letter  will  find 
you,  guide  me  to  write  something  which  may  prove  a  **  word 
in  season." 

**  One  of  the  principal  results  of  the  little  experience  which 
I  have  had  as  a  Christian  minister,  is  a  conviction  that  religion 
consists  very  much  in  giving  God  that  place  in  our  views  and 
feelings,  which  he  actually  fills  in  the  universe.  We  know 
that  in  the  universe  he  is  all  in  all.  So  far  as  he  is  constantly 
all  in  all  to  us,  so  far  as  we  comply  with  the  Psalmist's  charge 
to  his  soul,  "  My  soul,  wait  thou  only  upon  God  ;"  so  far,  I 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  279 

apprehend,  have  we  advanced  toward  perfection.  It  ih  com- 
paratively easy  to  wait  upon  God,  but  to  wait  upon  him  o?dy, — 
to  feel,  so  far  as  our  strength,  happiness,  and  usefulness  are 
concerned,  as  if  all  creatures  and  second  causes  were  annihi- 
lated, and  we  were  alone  in  the  universe  with  God,  is,  I  suspect, 
a  difficult  and  rare  attainment.  At  least,  I  am  sure  it  is  one 
which  I  am  very  far  from  having  made.  In  proportion  as  we 
make  this  attainment,  we  shall  find  every  thing  easy ;  for  we 
shall  become,  emphatically,  men  of  prayer ;  and  we  may  say 
of  prayer,  as  Solomon  says  of  money,  that  it  answereth  all 
things.  I  have  often  thought  that  every  minister,  and  espe- 
cially every  missionary,  ought  frequently  to  read,  or  at  least 
call  to  mind,  Foster's  Essay  on  the  Epithet  Romantic.  If  you 
have  not  his  Essays  at  hand,  you  may,  perhaps,  recollect  some 
of  his  concluding  remarks.  After  showing  that  it  is  highly 
romantic  to  expect  extraordinary  success  from  ordinary  means, 
he  adds  to  this  effect, — "  The  individual,  who  should  solemnly 
resolve  to  try  the  best  and  last  possible  efficacy  of  prayer,  and 
unalterably  determine  that  heaven  should  not  withhold  a  sin- 
gle influence,  which  the  utmost  effort  of  persevering  prayer 
could  bring  down,  would  probably  find  himself  becoming  a 
much  more  successful  agent  in  his  little  sphere."  Very  few 
missionaries  since  the  apostles,  probably,  have  tried  the  exper- 
iment. He,  who  shall  make  the  first  trial,  will,  I  believe,  ef- 
fect wonders.  May  you,  my  dear  brother,  be  that  happy  man. 
Nothing  that  I  could  write,  nothing  which  an  angel  could  write, 
would  be  necessary  to  him  who  should  make  this  trial.  I 
trust  that  you  will  find  our  Master  is  as  really  present  in  Pal- 
estine as  he  was  in  the  days  of  his  flesh  ;  that  you  will  some- 
times enjoy  his  presence  in  the  very  places  in  which  it  was 
formerly  enjoyed  by  the  apostles.  We  read  that,  on  one  occa- 
sion, they  '*  returned  to  Jesus,  and  told  him  all  things,  both 
what  they  had  done,  and  what  they  had  taught."  If  we  were, 
in  like  manner,  to  come  to  his  feet  every  evening,  and  tell  him 
where  we  have  been,  what  we  have  done,  what  we  have  said, 
and  what  were  our  emotions  through  the  day ;  we  should,  I 
believe,  find  it  both  pleasant  and  profitable.  Perhaps  he  would 
say  to  us,  as  he  did  to  them.  Come  apart,  and  rest  with  me 
awhile.  May  he  often  invite  you  to  rest  awhile  with  him,  to 
refresh  you  wVien  faint  and  weary,  and,  after  a  long  life  of 
usefulness,  take  you  to  rest  with  him  forever  in  his  own  heaven. 
"  I  write  no  religious  intelligence,  for  you  will  have  it  in  the 
Recorder. — I  may,  however,  mention,  that  the  ministers  in  this 
state  agreed  to  observe  the  first  day  of  the  present  year,  as  a 
day  of  fasting  and  prayer.     In  consequence,  we  have  had  more 


280  MEMOIR  OF 

revivals  in  the  state  this  year  than  in  any  former  year,  though 
none  of  them  has  been  very  extensive.  About  forty  have  been 
added  to  our  church.  We  long  to  have  good  news  from  Pales- 
tine ;  but  are  aware  that  we  must  wait  and  pray  long,  before 
we  can  expect  to  hear  much. 

"  I  commend  you  to  God,  my  dear  brother,  and  send  this 
letter  merely  as  a  proof  of  Christian  affection." 

To  a  ministering  brother  at  a  distance,  whose  labors  were 
suspended  by  sickness  : — 

*'  I  thank  you  for  your  letter,  though,  in  consequence  of  the 
unfavorable  information  which  it  communicated  respecting 
your  health,  it  gave  me  quite  as  much  pain  as  pleasure.  I  had 
hoped  to  hear  a  better  account  of  you.  But  why  do  I  say 
hoped  ?  or  what  business  have  I  to  talk  of  hoping  or  fearing, 
when  God  is  ordering  every  thing  in  infinite  wisdom  and  mer- 
cy 1  The  fact  is,  I  usually  find  it  much  easier  to  acquiesce  in 
my  own  afflictions,  than  in  those  of  my  friends;  for  I  can  see 
that  afflictions  are  absolutely  necessary  for  me,  but  do  not  see 
with  equal  clearness  that  they  are  necessary  for  them.  But 
if  I  do  not  see  it,  God  does,  or  he  would  not  afflict  them.  As 
you  are  in  his  hands,  you  will  be  well  the  moment  that  he  sees 
it  best  you  should  be  so  ;  and  why  should  I  wish  you  to  be  well 
any  sooner?  However,  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  that  the  time 
is  arrived,  and  that  you  are  able  to  resume  your  labors.  If  you 
are  not,  and  are  inquiring  of  your  Master  what  he  would  have 
you  do,  his  answer  is,  "  Lie  down  at  my  feet  and  be  quiet,  till 
I  give  you  strength  to  get  up  and  work."  But  he  knows  we 
had  rather  labor  than  suffer ;  and  that  we  had  rather  labor  and 
suffer  too,  than  be  laid  aside ;  and  therefore  he  sometimes  lays 
us  aside  for  awhile,  in  order  to  try  us  with  what  is  most  disa- 
greeable. Besides,  no  man  is  fit  to  rise  up  and  labor,  until  he 
is  made  willing  to  lie  still  and  suffer  as  long  as  his  Master 
pleases.  But  I  had  almost  forgot  that  I  am  writing  a  letter, 
and  not  a  sermon.  This  is  the  less  to  be  wondered  at,  because 
I  laid  aside  a  sermon  to  scribble  to  you.  I  will  try  to  be  less 
forgetful  in  future. 

"  The  revival  which  you  predicted  is  not  arrived ;  and,  what 
is  worse,  we  see  no  signs  of  its  approach,  unless  increasing 
deadness  is  a  sign.  At  the  last  union  prayer  meeting,  I  pro- 
posed that  all  the  churches  should  unite  in  observing  a  day  of 
fasting  and  prayer,  and  assemble  in  the  morning  at  one  meet- 
ing-house, in  the  afternoon  at  another,  and  in  the  evening  at 
a  third.     No  objection  was  made ;  but  it  was  thought  best  to 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  281 

appoint  a  committee  to  consult  each  church  in  form.  If  they 
agree  to  the  proposal,  as  I  think  they  will,  we  shall  appoint 
some  day  next  week,  and  have  notice  given  from  the  pulpits 
on  the  preceding  Sabbath.     ^     ^     ^ 

''  I  hope  the  good  people  of  B.,  C,  &c.,  have  become  quiet 
again,  since  La  Fayette's  departure.  When  will  the  Saviour 
be  invited  to  visit  us,  and  be  welcomed  as  he  was  ?  Not,  1 
am  afraid,  in  my  day,  nor  yours. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,  except  that  my  health  is  in 
the  best  state  possible ;  and  yet  it  is  very  bad.  I  leave  you  to 
solve  the  riddle,  if  it  is  one,  at  your  leisure. — When  you  have 
nothing  better  to  do,  write  to  me,  and  tell  me  that  you  are  the 
better  for  having  been  sick." 

To  a  kinsman  under  spiritual  trials : — 

"My  dear  Brother, 

"  I  have  just  received  your  doleful  epistle,  and,  though  pa- 
rochial cares  press  upon  me, — having  just  returned  from  a 
journey, — I  must  snatch  a  moment  to  answer  it.  Would  to 
God  I  could  write  something  which  would  prove  serviceable, 
but  I  fear  I  shall  not.  However,  I  will  make  the  attempt,  and 
may  God  bless  it. — You  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  there 
is  any  thing  peculiar  or  discouraging  in  your  present  situation. 
God  is  dealing  with  you,  as  he  did  with  Hezekiah,  when  he  left 
him,  to  try  him,  that  he  "  might  know  all  that  was  in  his  heart." 
If  you  have  ever  read  Mr.  Newton's  description  of  grace  in  the 
blade,  in  the  ear,  and  in  the  full  corn,  you  will  recollect,  that 
he  mentions  "  desire,"  as  the  characteristic  of  the  first  stage, 
and  "  conflict,"  as  that  of  the  second.  If  I  understand  your 
letter,  you  have  entered  on  the  stage  of  conflict,  and  must  now 
expect  more  distressing  proofs  of  the  desperate  wickedness  of 
your  heart,  than  you  had  before  experienced.  In  another  let- 
ter, Mr.  Newton  says,  "  I  believe  God  never  gives  his  people 
much  of  a  victory  over  the  world,  till  he  has  left  them  to  feel 
how  great  is  its  power  over  them."  This  remark,  I  have  no 
doubt,  is  true ;  and  God,  I  trust,  is  now  preparing  you  for  a 
victory  over  the  world,  by  showing  you  more  of  its  strength 
and  your  own  weakness.  Besides,  I  have  no  doubt  that  your 
present  trials  are  occasioned,  in  part,  by  the  state  of  your 
health.  But,  however  this  may  be,  let  me  assure  you,  that,  so 
long  as  sin  is  seen,  hated,  resisted  ;  so  long  as  we  groan  under 
it,  and  struggle  against  it,  it  shall  not  harm  us.  Do  not,  then, 
yield  to  discouragement ;  do  not  neglect  the  means  of  grace/ 
as  you  will  sometimes  be  strongly  tempted  to  do  ;  do  not  cea^ 
24* 


282  MEMOIR  OF 

struggling,  because  your  struggles  seem  to  avail  nothing ;  but 
continue,  like  Gideon,  though  "  faint,  yet  pursuing."  Could 
I  tell  you  what  bitter  proofs  I  have  had  of  my  desperate,  des- 
perate depravity — how  often  I  have  been  brought  to  my  wits' 
end — how  often  I  should  have  chosen  strangling  and  death 
rather  than  life,  and  how  I  have  been  carried  through  all,  it 
would,  I  think,  afford  you  some  encouragement.  But  perhaps 
you  will  say,  "  If  I  could  feel  distressed,  if  I  were  not  so  stu- 
pid in  this  situation,  it  would  encourage  me."  And  how,  let 
me  ask,  are  you  to  learn  that  your  heart  is  like  the  nether  mill- 
stone, except  by  being  left  for  a  time,  to  feel  that  nothing  can 
either  melt  or  move  it  ?  I  do  not,  of  course,  mean  to  justify 
or  excuse  this  hardness  of  heart.  It  is  a  most  abominable  and 
detestable  evil,  and  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  say  any  thing 
which  should  lead  you  to  think  lightly  of  it;  still,  if  our  hearts 
are  hard  and  wicked,  in  a  far  greater  degree  than  we  ever  con- 
ceived of,  it  is  surely  best  that  we  should  know  it ;  else,  how 
should  we  ever  be  duly  grateful  to  our  great  Physician  for  heal- 
ing us.  Heal  you  he  will,  my  dear  brother,  I  doubt  not ;  but  he 
will  first  make  you  know  how  sick,  how  mortally  sick  you  are. 
In  consequence,  you  will  think  more  highly  than  ever  of  his  kind- 
ness, faithfulness,  and  skill ;  you  will  love  much,  because  much 
has  been  forgiven  you ;  and  you  will  be  better  prepared  to  join  in 
the  song  of  ''  Worthy  is  the  Lamb."  I  must  again,  however, 
beseech  you  not  to  let  sin  turn  these  precious  truths  to  poison, 
by  tempting  you  to  think  lightly  of  sin ;  and  not  by  any  means 
be  driven  from  attempting  to  read,  watch,  meditate,  and  pray. 
In  your  present  situation,  this  is  the  great  danger.  You  will 
be  strongly  tempted  to  despondency  and  unbelief,  and  when 
these  evils  prevail,  you  will  be  tempted  to  neglect  the  means 
of  grace  as  useless,  or  as  means  which  you  cannot  use  aright. 
Resist  this  temptation,  and  all  will  be  well." 

Filial  and  fraternal  duty  happily  recognised  : — 

[^  My  dear  Mother, 

*'  I  should  sooner  have  answered  your  last,  had  I  not  expect- 
ed, ere  this,  to  see  you.  But  the  stage  disappointed  me.  I  had 
engaged  a  place  in  it,  and  sat  up  all  night  waiting  for  it,  but  it 
did  not  come.  Thus,  no  doubt  for  some  wise  reasons,  my  visit 
to  you  was  prevented.  I  had  two  particular  reasons  for  wishing 
to  come.  One  was,  to  talk  with  P.  He  is  certainly  wrong ;  he 
is  entangled  in  a  snare  of  Satan ;  he  can  pray,  and  he  must 
pray  ;  he  has  no  excuse.  His  unwillingness  to  have  you  press 
bim  on  the  subject  is  wrong.     I  know  all  about  it.     I  have 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  233 

been  in  the  same  snare  myself.  Whatever  P.  may  now  think, 
he  will,  sooner  or  later,  be  convinced  that  the  grand  difficulty 
lies,  not  in  his  nerves,  but  in  his  heart.  I  hope  he  will  not 
pretend  that  his  constitution  is  more  shattered,  or  his  health 
worse  than  mine.  But  I  have  never  seen  the  lime  when  I 
could  not  pray,  if  my  heart  was  right.  Let  him  not  think, 
however,  that  I  mean  to  censure  him  harshly.  I  have  been 
too  guilty  myself,  to  allow  of  this.  But  I  do  beseech  him,  if 
he  has  any  regard  to  his  happiness  here  or  hereafter,  not  to 
let  Satan  persuade  him,  that  he  is  unable  to  pray.  There  have 
been  many  seasons,  in  which  I  could  pray  only  while  walking 
my  study,  and,  even  then,  only  in  short,  vehement  ejaculations. 
If  I  knelt  down,  my  head  was  so  confused,  that  I  could  do 
nothing.  Let  him  resolve  that  he  will  spend  some  time  every 
day  in  prayer,  if  he  can  do  nothing  more  than  cry,  "  Lord, 
pity  me !     Lord,  help  me!"     He  is  ruined  if  he  does  not. 

"  The  other  reason  why  I  wished  to  see  you,  was,  to  know 
what  your  plans  and  wishes  are  respecting  your  place  of  res- 
idence, when  H.  moves.  I  thought  that  you  might,  perhaps, 
feel  unwilling  to  move  so  far  as  New  York.  I  hope  it  is  need- 
less to  tell  my  dear  mother,  that  if  she  chooses  to  make  her 
home  with  us,  we  will  do  all  in  our  povv^er  to  make  her  home 
comfortable.  I  hope  she  will  consult  nothing  but  hier  own  in- 
clinations. If  her  children  can  do  any  thing  to  make  the  re- 
mainder of  her  days  comfortable,  I  trust  they  all  have  a  full 
disposition  to  do  it.  She  has  only  to  say  the  word,  and  we 
will  place  her  where  she  thinks  she  will  be  most  comfortable. 

"  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that,  for  a  few  weeks,  I  have  en- 
joyed some  respite  from  my  sufferings.  I  observed  the  last 
anniversary  of  my  ordination,  and  the  first  day  of  the  present 
year,  as  days  of  fasting  and  prayer ;  and,  though  I  could  do 
little  more  than  groan  and  sigh,  a  blessing  has  followed.  I 
have  suffered  none  too  much.  Not  one  pang  could  have  been 
spared.  Should  I  suffer  hereafter,  do  not  let  it  distress  you. 
It  is  all  necessary;  all  will  be  well  at  last." 

Trembling  Christians  directed  to  the  source  of  joy  and 
strength : — 

*^  Many  of  the  church  have  been  so  much  distressed,  that  I 
thought  it  necessary  to  comfort  them,  if  possible,  and,  on  the 
Sabbath  morning,  preached  from  1  Sam.  xii.  20 — 24,  "  Fear 
not ;  ye  have  done  all  this  wickedness,"  &c.  My  design  was, 
to  show  trembhng,  desponding  Christians,  that,  notwithstand- 
ing all  their  great  wickedness,  they  ought  still  to  follow  God 


284  MEMOIR  OF 

with  confidence  and  increasing  diligence ;  and  that,  if  they 
would  do  this,  they  need  not  despond,  or  despair,  when  God 
shows  them  what  is  in  their  hearts.  Meditate  on  the  passage, 
if  you  please ;  and  I  hope  it  may  encourage  you  as  much  as  it 
did  the  church.  I  have  preached  more  respecting  Christ  of 
late  than  ever ;  and  am  more  and  more  convinced,  that  the 
knowledge  of  Christ  crucified  is  the  one  thing  needful,  the 
grand  source  of  peace,  and  joy,  and  growth  in  grace.  Count 
all  things  loss  for  the  excellency  of  this  knowledge ;  and  pray 
for  it  more  than  for  any  thing  else,  and  you  will  find  it  to  be  so." 

To  a  brother,  who  shrunk  from  his  duty,  through  depression 
of  mind,  and  an  erroneous  opinion  of  his  own  qualifications  for 
the  ministry. — Lest  any  should  use  the  authority  of  Dr.  Pay- 
son's  name  to  urge  men  to  assume  the  sacred  office  without 
the  requisite  qualifications,  it  ought  to  be  slated,  that  the  per- 
son addressed  in  the  following  letter,  besides  possessing  deci- 
ded piety,  had  passed  through  a  regular  course  of  preparatory 
studies  at  a  theological  seminary  : — 

"  My  DEAR  Brother, 

**  Your  letter  found  me  more  than  ordinarily  hurried ;  but  I 
feel  it  to  be  so  important  that  you  should  be  licensed  this  fall, 
that  I  must  snatch  a  moment  to  answer  it.  Your  feelings,  as 
you  describe  them,  are  just  like  mine,  only  less  aggravated  by 
long  continuance.  I  mention  this  that  you  may  pay  more  re- 
gard to  my  advice.  I  am  as  certain  that  it  is  best  for  you  to 
take  license  immediately,  as  I  can  be  of  any  thing.  Rely 
upon  it,  that,  if  you  delay,  your  difficulties  will  increase,  and 
you  will  feel  more  and  more  as  if  it  was  impossible  to  preach. 
Your  only  safety  lies  in  placing  yourself  in  circumstances 
which  will  make  exertion  necessary,  and  which  will  secure 
divine  assistance.  Never  mind  your  infirmities.  You  have 
nothing  to  do  with  them.  Your  business  is  to  trust,  and  go 
forward.  If  you  wait  till  the  sea  becomes  land,  you  will  never 
walk  on  it.  You  must  leave  the  ship,  and,  like  Peter,  set  your 
feet  upon  the  waves,  and  you  will  find  them  marble.  Christ 
is  a  good  Master.  He  wont  suffer  you  to  sink  :  and  you  will, 
at  length,  glory  in  your  infirmities.  I  would  not  give  up  the 
precious  proofs,  which  I  have  received,  in  consequence  of  my 
weakness,  of  his  power,  faithfulness,  and  love,  for  all  the  com- 
forts of  good  health.  But  be  assured,  that,  if  you  remain  as 
you  are,  Satan  will  weave  a  net  round  you,  which  you  will 
never  break.  Every  mental  and  religious  effort  will  become 
more  difficult  and  painful ;  your  mind  will  be  like  the  body  of 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  285 

a  rickety  child ;  you  will  live  a  burden  to  yourself  and  friends, 
and  die  without  the  consolation  of  having  been  made  useful. 
This  would  infallibly  have  been  my  fate,  had  I  not  been  thrust 
into  the  ministry  before  I  well  knew  what  I  was  about.  Yet 
you  see  I  have,  somehow  or  other,  been  carried  along,  and  so 
will  you  be.  Do  not  then,  my  dear,  dear  brother,  stand  hes- 
itating. A  feeble,  nervous  man  must  not  deliberate,  but  act ; 
for  his  deliberation  will  not  be  worth  a  straw,  but  his  activity 
may  be,  and  probably  will  be,  useful  both  to  himself  and 
others. 

"  When  Christ  told  his  disciples  to  feed  the  multitude  with 
five  loaves,  they  did  not  hesitate,  and  say.  Lord,  let  us  first  see 
the  bread  multiplied ;  if  we  begin,  and  have  not  enough,  we 
shall  be  put  to  shame ; — but  they  distributed  what  they  had, 
and  it  increased  in  the  distribution.  So  you  will  find  it.  You 
must,  therefore,  go  forward.  There  is  no  reason  why  you 
should  not.  If  you  delay,  indolence  will  steal  upon  you,  and 
bind  you  in  chains,  which  you  will  never  break. 

*^  I  charge  you,  then,  before  God  and  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
to  be  up  and  doing.  There  are  fifty  places  in  this  state,  where 
the  most  unconnected  things,  which  your  lips  could  utter, 
would  do  good,  and  be  well  received.  You  have  no  concep- 
tion by  what  apparently  feeble  means  God  often  works  wonders. 
Let  the  next  tidings  I  hear  from  you  be,  that  you  have  crossed 
the  Rubicon ;  or,  rather,  let  me  see  you  here  forthwith,  in  the 
character  of  a  preacher. 

"  My  health  is  as  usual,  but  my  Master  is  more  than  usually 
kind.  At  my  request,  the  church  lately  had  a  special  meeting 
to  pray  for  me.  God  has  heard  them  wonderfully,  and  my  cup 
runs  over." 

Prudential  advice  on  the  preservation  of  health,  addressed  to 
a  student  in  divinity  : — 

"My  dear  Brother, 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  learn  that  your  health  is  not  better,  but 
rather  worse,  than  when  I  was  at  R.  Should  it  not  have  im- 
proved before  you  receive  this,  I  beg  you  will  attend  to  it  with- 
out delay ;  attend  to  it,  as  your  first  and  chief  duty ;  for  such, 
be  assured,  it  is.  "  A  merciful  man  is  merciful  to  his  beast;" 
and  you  must  be  merciful  to  your  beast,  or,  as  Mr.  M.  would 
say,  to  your  "  animal."  Remember  that  it  is  your  Master's 
property ;  and  he  will  no  more  thank  you  for  driving  it  to  death, 
than  an  earthly  master  would  thank  a  servant  for  riding  a  val- 
uable horse  to  death,  under  pretence  of  zeal  for  his  interest. 


286  MEMOIR  OF 

The  truth  is,  I  am  afraid  Satan  has  jumped  on  to  the  saddle, 
and  when  he  is  there,  in  the  guise  of  an  angel  of  light,  he 
whips  and  spurs  at  a  most  unmerciful  rate,  as  every  joint  in 
my  poor  broken-winded  animal  can  testify,  from  woful  experi- 
ence. He  has  temptations  for  the  conscience,  as  Mr.  Newton 
well  observes ;  and  when  other  temptations  fail,  he  makes  great 
use  of  them.  Many  a  poor  creature  has  he  ridden  to  death,  by 
using  his  conscience  as  a  spur  ;  and  you  must  not  be  ignorant, 
nor  act  as  if  you  were  ignorant,  of  his  devices.  Remember 
Mr.  Brainerd's  remark,  that  diversions,  rightly  managed,  in- 
creased, rather  than  diminished  his  spirituality.  I  now  feel 
that  I  am  never  serving  our  Master  more  acceptably,  than  when, 
for  his  sake,  I  am  using  means  to  preserve  my  health,  and 
lengthen  my  life;  and  you  must  feel  in  a  similar  manner,  if 
you  mean  to  do  him  much  service  in  the  world.  He  knows 
what  you  would  do  for  him  if  you  could.  He  knows  that 
your  spirit  is  willing,  when  your  flesh  is  weak.  Do  not  think 
less  favorably  of  him  than  you  would  of  a  judicious,  affec- 
tionate father.  Do  not  think  that  he  requires  you  to  labor, 
when  such  a  father  would  enjoin  rest  or  relaxation.  Ride,  then, 
or  go  a  fishing,  or  employ  yourself  in  any  way,  which  will  ex- 
ercise the  body  gently,  without  wearying  the  mind.  Above  all, 
make  trial  of  the  shower  bath.  You  can  easily  fix  up  some- 
thing which  will  answer  the  purpose.  Try  it,  first,  about  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  the  weather  is  warm  ;  and  if  you 
feel  a  glow  after  it,  it  does  you  good  ;  but  if  it  occasions  chilli- 
ness, you  must  rather  try  a  warm  bath.  My  dear  brother,  do 
attend  immediately  to  these  hints,  for  much  depends  upon  it." 

To  two  young  sisters,  the  children  of  distant  friends  : — 

-"  I  wish  to  show^  you  that  I  feel  a  deep  interest  in  your 


eternal  welfare,  and  am  willing  to  do  any  thing  in  my  power 
to  promote  it.  There  is  a  circumstance  related  in  the  book 
of  Judges,  respecting  the  early  part  of  Samson's  life,  which 
suggests  some  thoughts  that  may  perhaps  be  useful  to  you. 
We  are  there  told,  that  "  the  child  grew,  and  that  the  Lord 
blessed  him,  and  that  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  began  to  move  him 
at  times."  I  have  no  doubt  that,  in  a  little  different  sense,  the 
Spirit  of  God  begins,  very  early,  to  move,  at  times,  upon  the 
minds  of  children  and  young  persons  ;  especially  of  those,  who, 
like  Samson,  have  pious  parents,  and  have  been,  like  him, 
dedicated  to  God.  He  has  thus,  I  believe,  at  times,  moved 
upon  your  minds.  Have  you  not  reason  to  suppose  that  He 
has  ?     Have  you  not  sometimes  had  serious  thoughts  and  feel- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  287 

ings  arise  in  your  minds,  without  any  apparent  cause  ?  Have 
you  not  found  something  within  you  which  urged  upon  you 
the  necessity  of  prayer,  of  remembering  your  Creator,  and  of 
preparing  for  death  ?  My  dear  young  friends,  that  something 
was  the  Spirit  of  God,  moving  upon  your  minds.  Whenever 
such  thoughts  and  feelings  rise  without  any  external  cause, 
you  may  be  certain  that  He  is  near  you.  Have  you  not  also 
found  that  religious  instruction  affects  you  very  differently  at 
different  times  ?  Sometimes,  perhaps,  it  scarcely  affects  you  at 
all.  At  other  times,  the  same  truths  take  firm  hold  of  your 
attention,  and  excite  your  feelings.  Now,  what  occasions  this 
difference  ?  It  is  this.  At  one  time,  the  Spirit  of  God  presses 
home  the  truth  upon  your  minds,  and  causes  it  to  affect  you. 
At  another  time.  He  does  not  apply  it,  and  then  it  produces  no 
effect.  Our  Saviour,  you  recollect,  compares  the  operations 
of  the  Spirit  to  those  of  the  wind.  Now,  when  you  see  the 
branches  of  a  tree  agitated,  without  any  visible  cause,  you  con- 
clude, at  once,  that  the  wind  is  blowing  upon  them.  Just  so, 
when  your  minds  are  interested  and  affected  in  a  serious  man- 
ner by  religious  considerations,  you  may  conclude  that  the 
Holy  Spirit  is  moving  upon  them.  And  can  you  not  recollect 
many  seasons,  or  at  least  some  seasons,  in  which  He  has  thus 
moved  upon  them  ?  If  so,  consider  how  great  a  favor,  how 
great  an  act  of  condescension  it  was,  on  the  part  of  God,  thus 
to  visit  you.  Had  He  sent  an  angel  from  heaven  to  warn  you, 
you  would  have  thought  it  a  great  favor.  You  would  have 
been  ready  to  ask,  with  surprise.  Why  does  the  infinite,  ever- 
lasting God  condescend  to  send  an  angel  from  heaven  to  pro- 
mote our  welfare  ?  But  for  God  to  send  His  Spirit  to  move 
upon  your  minds,  is  a  much  greater  favor,  a  much  greater  act 
of  condescension,  than  it  would  be  to  send  an  angel  to  you. 
O  then,  how  greatly  ought  you  to  love  and  thank  him  for  such 
a  favor,  and  how  carefully  should  you  cherish,  how  humbly 
should  you  yield  to  the  motions  of  this  heavenly  visiter!  Are 
you  still  favored  with  his  visits  ?  Does  he  still  move,  at  times, 
upon  your  minds  ?  If  so,  be  careful,  O  be  scrupulously  care- 
ful, not  to  grieve  Him,  and  cause  Him  to  forsake  you.  But 
perhaps  He  has  already  withdrawn  from  you.  If  so,  will  you 
not  implore  His  return  ?  Will  you  not,  after  reading  this, 
kneel  down  and  say,  ^  Lord,  I  have  ungratefully  neglected 
and  grieved  thy  good  Spirit,  and  He  has  justly  withdrawn  from 
me.  It  would  be  just,  should  He  never  return  to  me.  Yet, 
in  thy  great  mercy,  let  Him  return,  and  again  move  upon  my 
mind ;  let  Him  come,  and  enlighten  and  sanctify  me.'  Let  this 
be  your  daily  urgent  request." 


288  JIEMOIR  OF 

To  his  parents  under  various  and  accumulated  afflictions : — 

"  What  a  catalogue  of  trials  does  your  letter  contain !  I  am 
more  and  more  convinced  of  what  I  have  long  suspected,  that 
God  tries  his  people,  first,  with  inward,  spiritual  trials ;  and, 
then,  when  they  have  acquired  some  degree  of  experience,  and 
faith  has  become  strong,  he  visits  them  with  outward  afflic- 
tions. 

*'  Dr.  Owen  says,  that  Heb.  xii.  6  ought  to  be  rendered, 
"  whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he  chasteneth ;  yea,  also,  he  severely 
cJiastiseth,  above  the  ordinary  measure,  those  sons  whom  he 
accepts,  and  peculiarly  delights  in.^'  If  this  rendering  be  cor- 
rect,— and  the  doctor  certainly  makes  it  appear  so, — my  pa- 
rents have  reason  to  think  themselves  special  favorites.  Per- 
haps, for  a  short  time  before  death,  God's  people  may  be,  in  a 
measure,  exempted  from  both  inward  and  outward  trials. 

"  I  have  tried  to  write,  because  your  letter  ought  to  be  an- 
swered, and  because  I  wished  to  write  something  consolatory 
under  your  afflictions ;  but  I  can  only  echo  back  your  groans !" 

To  a  Christian  brother  of  rank  and  wealth : — 

"  I  have  thought  much  of  your  situation,  since  I  left  you. 
It  is  but  seldom  that  God  gives  one  of  his  children  so  many 
temporal  blessings,  as  he  has  given  you.  He  has  hitherto  pre- 
served you,  and  will,  I  trust,  continue  to  preserve  you,  from 
the  evils  which  attend  a  state  of  prosperity.  But  it  is,  as  you 
are  aware,  a  dangerous  state,  and  calls  for  great  watchfulness, 
and  much  prayer.  You  are,  doubtless,  conscious  of  many  evil 
propensities  working  within ;  but  they  may  work  long,  and 
produce  much  internal  mischief,  before  their  effects  become 
external  and  visible  to  others.  The  effects  of  temporal  pros- 
perity upon  the  mind,  resemble  those  of  an  unhealthy  atmos- 
phere upon  the  body.  The  constitution  is  gradually,  and 
almost  insensibly,  undermined  and  weakened ;  and  yet  no  par- 
ticular part  can  be  pointed  out,  as  the  seat  of  the  disease,  for 
the  poison  is  diffused  through  the  whole  system.  Spiritual  las- 
situde, the  loss  of  spiritual  appetite,  and  an  indisposition  to 
vigorous  spiritual  exertion,  are  some  of  the  first  perceptible 
symptoms,  that  the  poison  of  prosperity  is  at  work.  When  a 
man  detects  these  symptoms  in  himself,  it  is  time  for  him  to  be 
alarmed.  If  he  delays  a  little  longer,  the  disease  will  make 
such  progress,  as  to  render  him  insensible  to  his  danger. — Were 
I  placed  in  such  a  situation,  I  should  be  ruined  in  six  months. 
Still,  your  situation  is,  in  one  respect,  desirable.     It  is  one  in 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  289 

which  you  may  do  much  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  promo- 
tion of  his  cause." 

To  his  revered  mother,  on  leaving  her  habitation,  at  the 
final  dispersion  of  her  family,  August,  1824 : — 

^' My  DEAR  Mother, 

"  I  was  a  little  surprised,  when  you  were  with  us,  to  hear 
you  say  nothing  of  the  unpleasantness  of  being  obliged,  at 
your  age,  to  remove  far  from  the  place  where  you  had  spent 
so  many  years.  '  It  seemed  to  me  that  such  a  removal  must 
involve  many  circumstances  which  would  be  very  disagreea- 
ble, and  even  painful.  But,  as  you  said  little  or  nothing  on 
the  subject,  I  concluded  that  it  did  not  appear  equally  unpleas- 
ant to  you.  It  seems  from  your  letter,  however,  that  the  time 
of  trial  had  not  then  arrived,  and  that  you  have  since  been 
troubled  about  your  removal,  as  I  expected  you  would  be.  I 
am  glad  to  find  that  the  trial  has  now  lost  something  of  its 
bitterness,  and  that  you  feel  reconciled  to  go  where  Providence 
calls.  You  have  some  illustrious  examples,  among  God's 
ancient  servants,  to  encourage  and  instruct  you.  Abraham, 
called  to  leave  his  country  and  his  father's  house,  and  Jacob, 
obliged  in  his  old  age  to  go  down  into  Egypt,  had  trials  harder, 
probably,  than  yours,  though  of  the  same  nature.  But  they 
went,  and  God  went  with  them ;  and  he  will  go  Vv^ith  you ;  doubt 
it  not.  On  the  other  hand,  see  how  he  dealt  with  his  enemies. 
"  Moab  hath  been  at  ease  from  his  youth,  and  hath  not  been 
emptied  from  vessel  to  vessel ;  therefore  his  taste  remaineth 
in  him,  and  his  scent  is  not  changed."  You  have  not  been  at 
ease  from  your  youth,  and  you  have  been  emptied  from  vessel 
to  vessel,  and  you  are  now  to  be  emptied  again  from  one  vessel 
to  another.  And  surely  this  is  better  than  to  be  treated  like 
Moab,  and  possess  his  character.  Besides,  as  God  said  to  Ja- 
cob, in  his  old  age,  "  Fear  not  to  go  down  into  Egypt ;"  so  he 
says  to  you,  "  Fear  not  to  go  wherever  I  call ;  for  my  presence 
shall  go  with  you." — I  hope  you  feel  no  anxieties  of  a  pecunia- 
ry nature.  While  one  of  your  children  has  any  thing,  you  will 
not  want.  But  why  do  I  say  this  ?  Rather  let  me  say,  The 
Lord  is  your  Shepherd,  and,  while  he  possesses  any  thing,  you 
shall  not  want.  Poor  *^*^*^  too,  will  be  taken  care  of  As 
to  ******** ^  I  can  only  say,  once  more,  Leave  him  with  his 
Master.  He  knows  what  to  do  with  him,  and  he  will  do  all 
things  well.  If  he  chooses  rather  that  ********  should  suffer, 
he  will  overrule  all  his  sufferings  for  good.  Only  pray  for  him 
and  then  leave  him. 
25 


290  3IEMOIR  OF 

"  I  preached  yesterday  on  this  passage  : — "  Though  he  will 
not  give  him  because  he  is  his  friend,  yet,  because  of  his  im- 
portunity, he  will  rise  and  give  him  as  many  as  he  needeth." 
This,  as  welt  as  the  parable  of  the  unjust  judge,  evidently 
teaches,  that  importunate  prayer  will  prevail  when  nothing 
else  can.  A  man  may  pray  ten  times,  and  be  denied  ;  and 
yet,  by  praying  ten  times  more,  obtain  the  blessing.  Had  the 
Syro-Phoenician  ceased,  after  making  three  applications  to 
Christ,  she  would  have  gone  away  empty  ;  but,  by  applying 
once  more,  she  obtained  all  that  she  asked. 

"  It  has  been  a  time  of  trial  with  me,  as  well  as  with  you, 
since  we  parted.  I  have  been  reduced  lower,  in  point  of 
health,  than  on  any  former  occasion.  For  four  weeks  I  was 
unable  to  preach,  and  doubted  whether  I  should  ever  preach 
more.  But  this  was  all  my  trial,  and  I  was  kept  very  quiet. 
My  sermon  on  "Be  still,"  &c.,  followed  me,  and  God,  in  mer- 
cy, inclined  me  to  be  still.  My  people  urged  me  very  strongly 
to  make  a  voyage  to  Europe,  and  offered  to  supply  the  pulpit 
and  pay  all  my  expenses.  But,  though  I  should  like  well 
enough  to  see  Europe,  I  could  not  feel  any  freedom  to  go.  I 
did  not  like  to  have  so  much  expense  lavished  upon  me,  nor 
did  I  know  how  to  lose  so  much  time  as  such  a  voyage  would 
require.  I  am  now  better,  and  have  been  able  to  preach  the 
three  last  Sabbaths.  But  I  seem  to  preach  in  vain.  There  is 
no  noise  nor  shaking  among  the  dry  bones  ;  and,  even  of  the 
church,  I  may  almost  say.  There  is  no  breath  in  them.  But 
I  am  kept  from  impatience,  and  am  not  quite  discouraged. 
As  I  know  how  desirous  you  feel  that  your  children  should 
love  each  other,  I  would  tell  you,  if  I  could,  how  much  I  love 
E.  I  loved  her  much  before  her  last  visit,  and  she  endeared 
herself  still  more  to  us  during  that  visit.  I  believe,  too,  that 
I  love  my  brothers  pretty  well.  Do  tell  them  so.  What  you 
say  respecting  the  complaints  of  ministers  who  visit  us,  I  have 
heard  before.  I  do  not  wonder  at  it.  They  have  some  reason 
to  complain.  But  the  reason  of  our  apparent  coldness  is  what 
you  suppose  it  to  be.  Pressed  down  to  the  very  dust,  as  I  usu- 
ally am,  I  cannot  always  dress  my  countenance  in  smiles,  nor 
prevent  it  from  expressing  my  sufferings.  Hence  I  am  un- 
popular among  ministers.     It  is  a  trial,  but  I  cannot  help  it " 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  291 


CHAPTER  XVIIl. 

His  pmvate  character — His  affections  and  demeanor  as  a  hus- 
band, father^  master,  friend — His  gratitude,  economy,  gen- 
erosity— His  temper  of  mind  under  injuries. 

It  is  not  every  character  that  will  bear  a  close  inspection. 
The  more  intimately  some  men  are  viewed,  the  less  venera- 
tion and  respect  are  felt  for  them.  This  is  true  of  some  in 
elevated  stations,  and  possessing  no  small  share  of  public  con- 
fidence. Even  the  church  presents  this  anomaly.  A  man 
may  bear  a  saint-like  visage  abroad,  and  yet  be  a  very  fiend 
in  his  own  family  ;  may  put  on  meekness  and  devotion  in  a 
worshipping  assembly,  while  he  is  the  haughty  tyrant  of  his 
wife  and  children  ;  may  preach  self-denial  and  condescension, 
and  yet  carry  it  lordly  towards  the  inmates  of  his  own  dwell- 
ing, making  them  the  ministers  of  his  will  and  pleasure,  or 
else  imbittering  their  existence  by  his  savage  temper  and  un- 
reasonable complaints. 

Professional  men,  whose  public  duties  are  very  numerous 
and  urgent,  are  liable  to  fail  in  many  of  those  minute  regards 
which  contribute  so  much  to  heighten  the 

"  only  bliss 


Of  paradise  which  has  survived  the  fall." 

With  the  prevailing  desire  and  purpose  to  yield  to  every  claim 
its  due  consideration,  they  are  in  danger  of  thinking  that  they 
do  well  if  they  are  only  indifferent  to  those  of  the  least  impos- 
ing description  which  originate  in  their  domestic  relations  ; 
that  they  are  not  only  excusable,  but  disinterested  and  praise- 
worthy, in  neglecting,  from  devotion  to  the  public  welfare,  the 
ten  thousand  little  attentions  to  a  wife's  comfort  and  children's 
instruction  and  enjoyment,  which,  though  each  requires  but  a 
moment's  time,  and,  taken  singly,  scarcely  deserves  specifica- 
tion, constitute,  in  the  aggregate,  the  principal  part  of  domestic 
felicity.  But  a  man's  circumstances  must  be  very  peculiar, 
to  render  these  two  classes  of  duties  incompatible  with  each 
other.  The  look  of  affection,  the  kind  word  seasonably  in- 
terposed, the  helping  hand  which  love  extends,  the  eye  ever 
awake  to  anticipate  the  little  wants  of  the  household,  the  heart 


292  MEMOIR  OF 

prompt  to  seize  opportunities  to  soothe  sorrow,  to  calm  excited 
feelings,  to  inspire  and  promote  joy,  and  to  alleviate  the  burden 
of  maternal  anxieties  and  cares  which  press  incessantly  upon 
the  wife, — what  sacrifice  of  public  duty  do  these  require  ? 
Yet  who  can  calculate  the  misery  which  they  prevent,  or  the 
blessedness  v/hich  they  confer  ?  As  it  is  not  great  calamities 
which  render  men  unhappy,  but  petty  injuries,  and  provoca- 
tions, and  disappointments,  constantly  recurring,  too  trifling 
to  excite  public  sympathy,  or  to  be  made  the  subject  of  loud 
complaint, — so  it  is  not  insulated  acts  of  profuse  generosity, 
and  widely  separated,  though  extravagant  expressions  of  affec- 
tion, which  constitute  the  reality  or  the  happiness  of  friend- 
ship— especially  of  a  friendship  so  pure  and  endearing  as 
ought  ever  to  subsist  between  those  who  are  united  by  conju- 
gal ties.  These  holy  bonds  are  cemented  and  strengthened 
by  daily  and  hourly  acts  and  expressions  of  kindness.  And 
where,  in  the  whole  compass  of  motives,  could  a  consideration 
be  found  to  enforce  this  conjugal  tenderness,  so  affecting  and 
impressive  as  that  example  of  love  to  which  St.  Paul  refers 
the  husband  for  a  pattern  of  his  own  duty  ? — and  it  may  be 
added,  what  other  reference  could  have  conferred  such  exalt- 
ed honor  on  the  marriage  relation  ? — "  Husbands,  love  your 
wives,  even  as  Christ  also  loved  the  church.  Be  not  bitter 
against  them."  This  was  Dr.  Payson's  law  in  all  that  per- 
tained to  conjugal  duties ;  and  to  this  his  daily  practice  exhib- 
ited as  exact  a  conformity,  perhaps,  as  is  ever  seen  in  this  state 
of  imperfection.  Reasons  have  already  been  suggested,  why 
a  sparing  use  should  be  made  of  those  letters  which  exhibit 
his  tenderness  and  fidelity  in  this  relation  ;  but  a  few  extracts 
may  with  propriety  be  introduced  : — 

''At  Sea,  May  10,  1815. 
'My  dear  WifE; 

"  As  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  had  occasion  to  address  a  let- 
ter to  you  since  we  were  married,  I  thought  it  necessary,  before 
I  began,  to  consider,  a  few  moments,  by  what  title  to  address 
you.  The  result  of  my  meditations  was  a  determination  to 
employ  the  term  '  wife '  in  preference  to  any  other.  If  you 
ask  why  I  prefer  that  name,  I  answer.  Because  it  reminds  me 
that  you  are  mine,  my  own.  I  might  call  you  '  Dear  Louisa,' 
*  Dear  friend,'  or  'Dear'  any  thing  else — and  it  might  mean 
only  that  you  were  a  sister,  a  friend,  or  a  favorite.  But,  when 
I  call  you  '  My  wife,'  it  seems  to  me  to  mean  every  thing 
sweet,  amiable,  and  endearing.  It  not  only  reminds  me  that 
she  to  whom  I  write  is,  under  God,  mine,  but  that  she  is  mine 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  293 

by  the  gift  and  appointment  of  God — mine  by  the  sacred  bond 
of  marriage,  which  seems  to  give  an  air  of  sacredness  to  our 
union.  After  all,  I  have  not  said  what  I  meant  to  say,  but 
something  a  little  like  it.  So  do  you  try  to  imagine  what  I 
meant  to  say,  and  then  confess  that  I  have  succeeded  better 
than  you,  in  choosing  a  title  with  which  to  head  a  letter.  For 
my  own  part,  I  would  rather  you  should  call  me  '  Dear  hus- 
band,' than  '  Dear  friend,'  or  *  Dear  Edward,'  6lc.  However, 
call  me  by  what  name  you  please,  your  letters  will  always  be 
precious  while  they  continue  to  utter  the  language  of  affection. 
I  have  just  been  reading  one  of  two  which  I  have  already 
•ound  among  my  baggage.  If  you  knew  the  pleasure  they 
gave  me,  you  would  feel  well  paid  for  the  trouble  of  writing. 
I  fully  intended  to  write  at  least  one  to  you,  and  leave  it  be- 
hind me ;  but  I  could  think  of  no  place  to  put  it,  in  which  you 
would  be  certain  to  find  it.  But  I  must  hasten  to  give  you 
some  account  of  our  voyage  : — 

"  Friday  and  Saturday,  we  had  fair  winds  and  pleasant 
weather,  and  I  was  not  at  all  sea-sick.  But  on  Sunday,  it 
began  to  rain  and  blow  hard.  In  the  evening,  it  increased 
to  quite  a  gale,  but  was  still  favorable  ;  so  that,  on  Monday 
noon,  we  found  ourselves,  by  observation,  ninety  miles  south 
of  Philadelphia.  Since  that  time,  we  have  been  beating  about, 
vainly  trying  to  get  within  the  capes  of  Delaware.  We  have 
just  taken  a  pilot  on  board,  and  hope  to  reach  Philadelphia  in 
about  forty-eight  hours.  Since  the  gale  on  Sunday,  the  doc- 
tor and  I  have  been  very  sick,  and  able  to  eat  nothing.  For 
two  days  and  nights,  without  intermission,  I  was  tormented 
with  one  of  my  nervous  head-aches.  This  morning  it  has  left 
me,  and  I  begin  to  feel  something  like  an  appetite.  I  will 
only  add  now,  as  an  excuse  for  writing  so  miserably,  that  I 
am,  at  this  moment,  tossing  and  rolling  about  worse  than  a 
boy  in  a  swing,  or  on  the  end  of  a  plank.  Every  thing  near 
me,  which  is  movable,  rolls  from  side  to  side  incessantly ;  and 
I  should  do  the  same,  did  I  not  hold  on  to  something  stable. 
I  will,  therefore,  defer  the  conclusion  of  my  letter  till  I  am 
more  established. 

^^  Philadelphia,  May  11. 

"  We  arrived  here  last  night,  after  a  most  delightful  sail  up 
the  Delaware.  Wind  and  tide  both  favored  us,  so  that  we 
came  at  the  rate  of  eleven  miles  an  hour,  for  ten  hours  suc- 
cessively. Scarcely  ever  have  I  experienced  so  much  pleas- 
ure in  one  day.     Every  body  seemed  happy.     Dr. and  I 

were  in  high  health  and  spirits  ;  the  prospect  on  the  banks  of 
25* 


294  MEMOIR  OF 

the  river  was  delightful,  and  cliangiiig  every  moment ;  the 
day  was  fine,  and  the  swiftness  of  our  motion  was  very  agreea- 
ble ;  and,  to  crown  all,  I  saw  God  in  his  works,  and  tasted  of 
his  goodness  in  every  thing.  Excess  of  pleasure  was  almost 
painful ;  before  night,  I  was  fairly  weary  of  enjoyment,  and 
wished  for  sleep.  I  thought  of  you  almost  every  moment ;  and 
nothing  but  the  presence  of  yourself  and  the  children  was 
wanting,  to  render  me  as  happy  as  I  can  ever  be  in  this  world. 
Last  night,  I  dreamed  that  I  had  reached  home.  I  felt  your 
tears  of  affection  upon  my  cheek,  and  little  Edward's  arms 
round  my  neck  ;  but  I  awoke,  and  it  was  a  dream. — I  have 
not  yet  been  ashore.  Every  body  on  board  is  in  a  bustle ;  the 
passengers  hastening  to  visit  their  friends,  and  I  standing  away 
in  one  corner  alone,  talking  with  my  best,  dearest  earthly 
friend.  You,  at  the  distance  of  five  hundred  miles,  have  more 
attractions  for  me  than  the  whole  city  of  Philadelphia,  which 
lies  spread  out  before  me,  and  on  which  I  have  scarcely,  as 
yet,  bestowed  a  glance.  If  I  did  not  write  thus  early,  I  should 
not  be  able  to  send  my  letter  to-day  ;  and  you  would  be  obli- 
ged to  wait  one  day  longer  before  you  heard  from  us.  I  now 
begin  to  regret  that  I  did  not  urge  you  more  to  meet  me  at 
New  Haven.  It  would  be  a  great  gratification  to  have  you  so 
much  nearer  to  me,  and  to  think  of  meeting  you  so  much  soon- 
er.    I  still  have  a  faint  hope  that  you  will  be  there. 

"  Kiss  the  children  for  me ;  talk  to  them  about  me ;  love 
me,  as  I  do  you,  better  than  I  did — yes,  far  better  than  I  did, 
when  I  VvTote  the  last  letter  to  you  before  we  were  married. 
Love  to  all  who  inquire  for  me.  God  be  with  you,  bless  you, 
keep  you,  my  dear,  dear  wife. 

*'  So  prays  your  affectionate  husband." 

In  a  letter  written  during  another  season  of  absence,  is  the 
folio v/ing  beautiful  passage,  in  which  the  gentle  and  the  severe 
are  most  charmingly  blended : — 

■  '*  Though  your  letter  was  consoling,  it  grieved  me  for 


a  moment.  It  did  not  seem  to  breathe  so  much  tenderness 
as  your  former  letters.  But  I  soon  perceived  the  reason.  Your 
mind  was  braced  up  to  help  me  bear  my  burdens ;  and  in  such 
a  state  of  mind,  it  is  not  easy  to  feel  or  express  tenderness.  I 
hope  you  will  remember  this  remark.  You  know  that  I  am 
often  obliged,  while  at  home,  to  put  on  all  the  iron  I  can  com- 
mand, in  order  to  bear  up  against  trials  and  discouragements ; 
and  many  times,  when  you  know  nothing  of  it,  I  am  engaged 
in  most  distressing  inward  conflicts.     Now,  how  can  a  man 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  295 

seem  tender  and  affectionate  at  such  a  time  ?  How  could  a 
soldier,  in  the  heat  of  battle,  stop  to  smile  upon  his  wife,  or 
kiss  his  children  ?  Even  if  he  spoke  to  them  at  such  a  time, 
the  highly  raised  state  of  his  feelings  would,  probably,  give 
something  like  sharpness  to  his  voice. — But  I  forbear  excuses. 
Christ  was  tender  and  affectionate  in  the  severest  agonies,  the 
most  distressing  conflicts.  I  hope,  if  I  am  ever  permitted  to  re- 
turn, you  will  find  me  a  little  more  like  him  than  I  have  been." 

In  his  strictly  domestic  letters,  he  sometimes  hits  off  the  dif- 
ferent humors,  peculiarities,  relations,  and  circumstances  of 
himself  and  his  connexions,  with  inimitable  vivacity,  and  a 
sportiveness  which  shows  how  easily  a  great  man  can  unbend 
himself,  when  occasion  requires. — A  short  passage  from  the 
close  of  one  such  letter  will  serve  as  a  specimen  of  the  quali- 
ties alluded  to ;  and,  like  his  satire  upon  quackery,  may  serve 
a  more  important  purpose  than  mere  amusement.  In  the 
keen  irony  which  pervades  it,  is  an  effectual  rebuke  of  that 
doating  partiality,  which  leads  so  many  parents  to  think  their 
own  children  prodigies  of  genius  : — 

"  As  to  baby,  she  is  to  be  the  greatest  genius,  and  the  great- 
est beauty  in  these  parts.  I  could  easily  fill  a  sheet  with  proofs 
of  her  talents.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  she  has  four  teeth ;  stands 
alone  ;  says  pa^  and  ma' ;  no — no — very  stoutly,  and  has  been 
whipped  several  times  for  being  wiser  than  her  father." 

With  a  heart  always  more  ready  to  confer  favors  than  to  re- 
ceive them,  his  condition  was  very  frequently  such,  that  he 
needed  rather  "  to  be  ministered  unto,  than  to  minister ;"  but 
the  most  agonizing  sufferings  of  body,  when  exempted  from 
depression  of  mind,  never  rendered  him  the  less  cheerful  and 
agreeable  husband  and  father.  It  is  astonishing  how  '  lightly 
he  esteemed  such  afflictions.'  They  seemed  to  affect  him  al- 
most as  little  as  violence  inflicted  on  a  block  or  a  stone.  His 
demeanor  under  bodily  agonies  has  often  been  such,  that  he 
was  rather  envied  than  pitied  by  his  family  and  attendants. 
These  were,  indeed,  seasons  of  unusual  gayety  and  cheerful- 
ness. He  has  left  a  description  of  the  accumulated  evils,  that 
were  crowded  into  a  few  days,  into  which  his  playful  imagina- 
tion has  thrown  so  much  of  humor,  as  to  divest  the  subject  of 
its  repulsive  character,  and  clothe  it  with  no  ordinary  attrac- 
tions. But  it  is  chiefly  interesting  as  an  illustration  of  a  hap- 
py temper  : — 


296  MEMOIR  OF 

"  Since  I  wrote  last,  I  have  been  called  to  sing  of  mer- 


cy and  judgment.  My  old  friend,  the  Sick  Head-ache,  has  fa- 
vored me  with  an  unusual  share  of  his  company,  and  has 
seemed  particularly  fond  of  visiting  me  on  the  Sabbath.  Then 
came  Cholera  Morbus,  and,  in  a  few  hours,  reduced  m.e  so  low, 
that  I  could  have  died  as  easily  as  not.  Rheumatism  next  ar- 
rived, eager  to  pay  his  respects,  and  embraced  my  right  shoul- 
der with  such  ardor  of  affection,  that  he  had  well  nigh  torn  it 
from  its  socket.  I  had  not  thought  much  of  this  gentleman's 
powers  before ;  but  he  has  convinced  me  of  them  so  thorough- 
ly, that  I  shall  think  and  speak  of  them  with  respect  as  long 
as  I  live.  Not  content  with  giving  me  his  company  all  day, 
for  a  fortnight  together,  he  has  insisted  on  sitting  up  with  me 
every  night,  and,  what  is  worse,  made  me  sit  up  too.  During 
this  time,  my  poor  shoulder,  neck,  and  back,  seemed  to  be  a 
place  in  which  the  various  pains  and  aches  had  assembled  to 
keep  holyday  ;  and  the  delectable  sensations  of  stinging,  prick- 
ing, cutting,  lacerating,  wrenching,  burning,  gnawing,  ^c, 
succeeded  each  other,  or  all  mingled  together,  in  a  confusion 
that  was  far  from  being  pleasing.  The  cross  old  gentleman, 
though  his  zeal  is  somewhat  abated  by  the  fomentations,  blis- 
ters, &/C.,  with  which  we  welcomed  him,  still  stands  at  my  back, 
threatening  that  he  will  not  allow  me  to  finish  my  letter. — But 
enough  of  him  and  his  companions.  Let  me  leave  them  for  a 
more  pleasing  theme. 

*'  God  has  mercifully  stayed  his  rough  wind  in  the  day  of  his 
east  wind.  No  horrible,  hell-born  temptations,  no  rheumatism 
of  the  mind  has  been  allowed  to  visit  me  in  my  sufferings ;  but 
such  consolations,  such  heavenly  visits,  as  turned  agony  into 
pleasure,  and  constrained  me  to  sing  aloud,  whenever  I  could 
catch  my  breath  long  enough  to  utter  a  stanza.  Indeed,  I 
have  been  ready  to  doubt  whether  pain  be  really  an  evil ;  for, 
though  more  pain  was  crowded  into  last  week,  than  any  other 
week  of  my  life,  yet  it  was  one  of  the  happiest  weeks  I  ever 
spent.  And  now  I  am  ready  to  say,  Come  what  will  come — 
sickness,  pain,  agony,  poverty,  loss  of  friends — only  let  God 
come  with  them,  and  they  shall  be  welcome.  Praised,  blessed 
forever,  be  his  name,  for  all  my  trials  and  afflictions !  There 
has  not  been  one  too  many — all  were  necessary,  and  good,  and 
kind." 

How  perfectly  versed  was  he  in  the  heavenly  art  of  extract- 
ing the  choicest  sweets  from  the  bitterest  cup ! — "  honey  out  of 
the  rock,  and  oil  out  of  the  flinty  rock."  How  much  anguish 
must  such  a  demeanor  under  sufferings  have  saved  "  the  part- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  297 

ners  of  his  blood  !"  What  rare  and  exquisite  enjoyment  must 
it  have  imparted  to  them,  to  witness  a  happiness  which  the  ca- 
lamities of  life  could  not  mar  1  It  was  surely  an  enviable  priv- 
ilege to  enjoy  instructions  rendered  so  emphatical  and  impres- 
sive by  the  circumstances  of  the  teacher. 

In  another  extract  may  be  seen  the  tender  yearnings  of  a 
father's  heart — a  heart,  nevertheless,  in  a  state  of  sweet  sub- 
jection to  *'  the  Father  of  spirits,  who  chasteneth  us  for  our 
profit,  that  we  may  be  partakers  of  his  holiness  :" — 

''May  13,  1816. 
*^  Your  welcome  letter,  my  dear  mother,  has  just  arrived. 
You  would  pity  me,  if  you  knew  in  what  circumstances  I  sit 
down  to  answer  it.  For  ten  days,  I  have  been  in  what  Dr. 
Young  calls  "  the  post  of  observation,  darker  every  hour." 
Poor  little  Caroline  lies  before  me,  writhing  under  the  agonies 
of  dropsy  in  the  head.  The  physicians  have  given  her  over. 
Louisa  sits  before  me  making  her  shroud ;  yet  she  will  proba- 
bly live  a  week  longer ;  her  distress  increasing  every  day,  till 
death  closes  it.  I  thought  that  I  was  almost  without  natural 
affection ;  that  I  did  not  love  my  children  ;  but  I  find,  to  my 
cost,  that  I  do.  Her  distress  wrings  every  nerve  and  fibre  of 
my  heart.  If  you  have  ever  seen  a  person  die  of  this  dread- 
ful disorder,  I  need  not  describe  it.  If  you  have  not,  descrip- 
tion can  give  you  but  little  idea  of  it.  I  am,  however,  merci- 
fully spared  the  keener  distress  of  being  unreconciled  to  the 
trial.  As  yet,  I  can  bless  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  I  bless 
him  that  I  can.  Whether  I  shall  continue  to  feel  so  to  the 
end,  he  only  knows.  It  is  painful  to  see  her  suffer  for  my  sins. 
It  is  dreadful  to  think  of  having  provoked  such  a  being  as  God 
is,  to  inflict  such  sufferings. — But  it  is  right.  The  affliction  is 
too  light,  as,  indeed,  every  affliction  short  of  eternal  death 
would  be.  I  find  a  great  difference  between  the  effect  of  suf- 
fering in  my  own  person,  and  in  the  person  of  another.  Per- 
sonal sufferings  seem  to  harden  the  heart,  and  make  me  selfish, 
so  that  I  can  feel  little  for  others.  They  will  drag  one's  atten- 
tion home  to  himself  But  suffering  in  the  person  of  another 
seems  to  have  an  effect  directly  opposite,  and  is,  therefore, 
more  beneficial.  I  needed  some  such  trial,  to  teach  me  how 
to  sympathize  with  my  people  in  similar  circumstances." 

For  more  than  a  week  afterwards,  he  watched  this  child, 
"  struggling  between  life  and  death" — the  victim  of  complica- 
ted diseases,  the  effects  of  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  de- 
scribe and  almost  congeal  one's  blood  to  read.     Yet  he  was 


298  MEMOIR  OF 

calm  "as  the  morning,  when  the  sun  ariseth  ;"  and,  though 
his  health  was  impaired  by  watching,  in  addition  to  his  labors, 
he  says  of  this  season — "  It  has  been,  on  the  whole,  a  happy 
week.  I  have  been  unusually  free  from  spiritual  trials ;  and 
any  thing  which  frees  me  from  them  is  a  blessing.  Be  not  dis- 
tressed on  our  account.  We  are  happy,  and  can  sing,  *'  sweet 
affliction,"  &lc.     I  would  not  but  have  had  it  on  any  account." 

It  will  add  nothing  to  the  strength  of  the  impression  produ- 
ced by  these  extracts,  to  say,  that  he  was  a  most  kind  and  ten- 
der husband,  a  most  faithful  and  affectionate  father ;  but  it  is 
adding  something  to  their  import,  to  afflrm  that,  in  him,  these 
qualities  were  uniform,  and  manifested  in  his  daily  intercourse 
with  his  household. 

He  was  the  companion  of  his  children.  Not  unfrequently 
would  he  descend,  as  it  were,  to  their  level,  and  mingle,  for  a 
few  moments,  in  their  pastimes,  and  even  invent  new  diver- 
sions for  them  ;  particularly  such  as  would  call  forth  exertions  of 
skill  and  ingenuity — so  that  their  very  amusements  might  prove 
a  profitable  exercise,  and  contribute  to  the  developement  of  their 
intellectual  faculties.  Games  of  chance,  and  every  thing  which 
bore  a  distant  resemblance  to  them,  he  utterly  disallowed.  He 
delighted  to  amuse  them  with  pictures  ;  at  the  same  time  pour- 
ing into  their  minds  a  knowledge  of  the  arts,  or  of  historical 
characters,  or  of  geographical  and  statistical  facts,  or  of  the 
natural  history  of  animals,  or  whatever  else  would  be  most 
readily  suggested  by  the  picture. 

Often  would  he  entertain  his  children,  either  from  the  stores 
of  his  own  memory,  or  from  his  still  richer  invention,  with 
tales  and  fables ;  from  which  it  was  their  task  to  deduce  the 
moral,  as  an  exercise  of  their  perceptive  and  reasoning  facul- 
ties, in  pay  for  the  entertainment  which  he  had  afforded  them. 
If  they  failed,  he  would,  of  course,  make  the  application  himself. 

So  far  as  he  exerted  himself  for  the  intellectual  advance- 
ment of  his  children,  he  did  it  not  so  much  by  set  lessons,  and 
at  seasons  set  apart  for  that  purpose  exclusively,  as  by  inci- 
dental instructions.  There  were  many  days  when  his  engage- 
ments left  him  no  time  to  meet  them,  except  at  their  meals  ; 
then — indeed  it  was  his  comm.on  practice — he  would  improve 
the  time  spent  at  the  table  for  this  purpose — proposing  various 
questions,  and  inviting  inquiries  from  them,  always  leaving 
them  with  a  subject  for  consideration,  and  often  calling  upon 
them  at  night,  to  mention  any  new  idea  which  they  might  have 
acquired  during  the  day.  He  was  much  devoted  to  the  welfare 
of  his  children  ;  and  his  cares,  burdens  and  maladies,  were  op- 
pressive indeed,  when  they  did  not  share  a  father's  attentions. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  299 

To  instruct  them  in  religion,  was,  of  course,  his  first  care. 
Here,  also,  he  wisely  consulted  their  age  and  capacities,  and 
imparted  it,  in  measure  and  kind,  as  they  were  able  to  bear. 
He  doubted  the  expediency  of  giving  religious  instruction  only 
at  stated  periods,  and  dealing  it  out  with  parade  and  formality, 
and  in  tedious  addresses.  His  motto  was — "  Line  upon  line, 
precept  upon  precept ;  here  a  little,  and  there  a  little,"  as  oc- 
casion offered,  or  the  emergency  demanded. 

But  he  was  master,  as  well  as  father  ;  "  one  that  ruled  well 
his  own  house,  having  his  children  in  subjection  with  all  grav- 
ity." He  habitually  explained  his  commands  to  such  of  his 
children  as  were  of  sufficient  age  to  understand  and  appreciate 
them ;  and  always  referred  to  the  Scriptures,  as  the  umpire 
from  whose  decisions  there  was  no  appeal.  "  The  Bible  says 
thus,"  was  the  invariable  and  ultimate  argument  for  enforc- 
ing obedience.  Appeals  of  this  kind  contribute  greatly  to  in- 
spire an  early  reverence  for  the  sacred  book.  It  was  a  willing 
obedience,  and  from  exalted  principles,  which  he  aimed  to 
secure. 

He  treated  his  servants  as  fellow  creatures — as  if  he  believ- 
ed, that  *  God  made  of  one  blood  all  the  people  that  dwell  upon 
the  earth' — as  if  he  expected  to  stand  with  them  at  the  bar, 
where  "  he  shall  have  judgment  without  meicy,  who  hath 
showed  no  mercy."  They  shared  his  religious  instructions, 
and  were  remembered  in  his  prayers.  He  also  exacted  of  his 
children,  as  an  inviolable  duty,  kind  and  considerate  treat- 
ment towards  the  domestics.  To  several  of  them  his  counsels 
and  prayers  were  blessed.  To  one,  who  had  been  anxious  for 
her  own  salvation  in  consequence  of  his  previous  fidelity,  and 
apparently  lost  her  impressions,  he  affectionately  said,  as  she 
entered  the  parlor,  bearing  a  pitcher  of  water — "  I  hope  the 
time  may  never  come,  when  you  will  long  for  a  drop  of  that 
water  to  cool  your  tongue."  It  was  a  word  in  season — she 
became  a  Christian.  Another  was  about  to  leave  his  family 
for  a  gay  circle,  with  the  prospect  of  entering  a  new  relation, 
from  which  he  apprehended  danger  to  her  soul.  At  family 
prayer,  the  last  time  she  was  expected  to  be  present,  he  pray- 
ed that  the  separation  might  not  be  eternal.  The  petition 
was  remembered  ;  she  soon  returned  to  her  service  in  his 
family,  exhibited  evidence  of  conversion,  and  afterwards  died 
in  faith. — This  tenderness  involved  no  sacrifice  of  dignity  or 
authority  on  his  part ;  nor  did  it  cause  insubordination  on  the 
part  of  servants,  but,  in  most  cases,  a  more  willing  and  faithful 
service. 


300  MEMOIR  OF 

In  his  family  devotions  he  was  never  tedious.  They  were 
always  impressive,  and  adapted  with  surprising  appropriateness 
to  the  existing  circumstances  of  the  household.  He  defighted 
to  address  Jehovah  through  Christ,  as  his  God,  by  covenant; 
and  hence  he  derived  some  of  those  powerful  arguments  which 
he  pleaded  in  intercession  for  his  children,  and  one  strong 
ground  of  hope  that  God  would  convert  and  save  them. 

To  obtain  any  adequate  conception  of  the  manner  in 
which  God  was  acknowledged  and  honored  in  his  habitation, 
recourse  must  be  had,  as  in  other  instances,  to  his  own  lan- 
guage : — 

"  April,  1816. 

"  Another  precious  passage  is  that  in  Zechariah,  *'  In 

that  day  shall  there  be  upon  the  bells  of  the  horses.  Holiness  to 
the  Lord,^'  6lc.  I  preached  on  it  lately,  and,  among  other 
things,  observed,  that,  in  that  day,  every  action  would  be  per- 
formed as  the  most  solemn  religious  duties  are  now ;  every 
house  and  place  would  be  a  temple  ;  every  day  like  a  Sab- 
bath ;  and  every  meal  like  the  Lord's  supper.  We  have  since 
been  trying  to  have  the  prophecy  fulfilled  at  our  house  ;  and, 
though  we  succeed  miserably  enough,  yet  the  bare  attempt  has 
given  us  a  happiness  unknown  before.  One  thing,  which  has 
been  greatly  blessed  to  us,  is,  having  family  prayer  at  noon, 
as  well  as  morning  and  evening.  It  showed  us  how  far  we 
often  get  from  God  during  the  day,  even  when  we  begin  and 
close  it  with  him.  In  some  families,  this  would  be  impossi- 
ble ;  and  then  half  an  hour  spent  alone  would  answer  the  pur- 
pose as  well.  I  find  it  requires  almost  constant  rubbing  and 
chafing  to  make  the  blood  circulate  in  such  frozen  souls  as 
ours;  and,  after  all,  it  avails  nothing,  if  the  Sun  of  Righteous- 
ness does  not  shine." 

Dr.  Payson  was  the  father  of  eight  children,  two  of  whom, 
a  son  and  a  daughter,  he  followed  to  the  grave.  Six  survive 
him,  two  daughters  and  four  sons. 

Many  persons  were  honored  with  a  large  share  of  Dr.  Pay- 
son's  confidence  ;  but  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  he  ever 
poured  out  all  the  feelings  of  his  bosom  to  any  beyond  his 
nearest  relations,  if,  indeed,  he  did  to  any  besides  his  God. 
It  required  a  reach  of  sympathy  beyond  what  man  is  ordinari- 
ly capable  of  exercising,  to  enter  deeply  into  his  experience. 
He  could  not  bring  himself  to  tell  of  the  peculiar  agonies  or 
raptures,  which  by  turns  tortured  and  blessed  hira,  to  any 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  301 

heart  that  could  not  send  back  a  response.  And  where,  al 
most,  could  that  heart  be  found?  And  in  this,  the  writer, 
while  tracing  his  religious  experience,  has  often  thought  he 
was  justified  by  the  example  of  Paul,  after  his  rapture.  Still, 
while  there  w^ere  secrets  in  his  own  bosom  of  too  sacred  a  char- 
acter to  be  made  common  by  participation,  his  intercourse  with 
his  flock,  individually,  was  that  of  a  highly  endearing,  tender, 
and  confidential  friendship.  "  If  there  were  ever  a  minister" 
— these  are  his  own  words — "  blessed  with  a  kind  and  faithful 
people,  I  am.  If  I  were  not  so  often  sick,  I  should  be  too  happy. 
When  I  come  into  my  congregation,  I  feel  as  a  father,  sur- 
rounded by  his  children.  I  do  not  feel  as  though  there  were  an 
ill  disposed  person  among  them.  I  can  throw  off  my  armor  with- 
out fearing  that  an  enemy  is  there  with  a  dagger  ready  to  stab 
me."  Their  affection  w^as  most  fully  and  faithfully  reciprocat- 
ed. Never  did  a  minister  more  ardently  love  his  charge,  or 
enter  with  greater  facility  into  all  their  interests  and  feelings. 
When  any  of  them  were  visited  with  calamity,  he  was  among 
the  very  first  to  tender  his  sympathy  ;  and  always  left  them 
"  lightened."  In  listening  to  his  conversation  and  prayers, 
the  burden  would  often  fall  off. 

"  Beside  the  bed  where  parting  life  was  laid, 
And  sorrow,  guilty  and  pain,  by  turns  dismayed/' 

he  was  at  once  faithful  and  tender  ;  and  if 

'^  Despair  and  anguish  fled  the  struggling  soul," 

it  was  because  it  had  been  pointed  to  the  '  smitten  Rock,'  to 
the  "  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  aw^ay  the  sins  of  the  world." 

"  Comfort  came  down,  the  trembling  wi'etch  to  raise, 
And  his  last  faltering  accents  whispered  praise." 

He  was  eminently  susceptible  of  gratitude.  A  favor,  which 
would  be  received  with  a  very  summary  acknowledgment  by 
many,  would  make  his  "  shoulders  ache  under  the  load  of  ol>- 
ligation  that  was  laid  upon  them."  And  if  he  *  bore  it  pretty 
well,  it  w^as  because  nothing  renders  a  man  so  careless  about 
increasing  his  debts,  as  the  consciousness  that  he  shall  never 
be  able  to  pay.' 

Economy  was  a  very  noticeable  feature  in  his  character. 
It  was  a  principle  with  him  to  spend  nothing  merely  for  orna- 
ment. The  money  which  came  into  his  possession  he  regard- 
ed as  a  talent  for  which  he  w^as  accountable ;  and  so  scru- 
pulous was  he,  as  to  the  disposition  which  he  made  of  it, 
that  he  is  thought  to  have  regarded  some  things  as  forbidden 
26 


302  MEMOIR  OF 

luxuries,  which  would  have  been  for  his  welfare.  In  his  fur- 
niture, in  his  apparel,  and  that  of  his  household,  and  in  the 
provisions  of  his  table,  there  was  a  plainness  and  a  simplicity 
well  becoming  a  man  professing  and  teaching  godliness. 
Connected  with  this  quality  was  a  noble  generosity  of  soul. 
He  did  not  save  to  hoard,  but  to  bless  others.  He  did  not 
love  money  for  its  own  sake ;  and  so  obvious  to  all  was  his 
disinterestedness,  that,  so  far  as  is  known,  he  never  fell  under 
the  charge  or  even  the  suspicion  of  being  avaricious.  If  the 
temporal  or  spiritual  necessities  of  his  fellow  creatures  de- 
manded relief,  his  money  was  as  free  for  their  use  as  a  cup  of 
cold  water.  He  had  declined  purchasing  an  article  of  conve- 
nience for  the  family  one  morning,  because,  as  it  was  not  ab- 
solutely necessary,  he  thought  they  could  not  afford  it.  The 
same  day,  he  gave  ten  dollars  to  a  woman  in  reduced  circum- 
stances, who  called  at  his  house.  At  another  time,  he  said  to 
his  church,  who  had  handed  in  their  contribution  of  fifty  or 
sixty  dollars,  for  foreign  missions — "  I  am  ashamed  to  send  so 
small  a  sum,  and  shall  forward  one  hundred  dollars,  as  your 
contribution  ;  and  you  may  act  your  pleasure  about  indemni- 
fying me."  These  are  only  instances  out  of  a  multitude ;  the 
same  liberality  characterized  him  as  long  as  he  lived.  He 
continued  to  give,  till  after  he  was  unable  to  put  his  name  to  a 
subscription  paper.  It  was  with  reluctance  that  he  received 
from  his  people  what  they  were  forward  to  give  as  a  compen- 
sation for  his  services ;  and  for  two  successive  years,  he  actu- 
ally relinquished  four  hundred  dollars.  He  never  would  have 
possessed  a  dwelling-house  in  fee,  if  his  people  had  waited  for 
his  consent.  Acting  according  to  the  impulse  of  their  own  libe- 
rality, and  their  convictions  of  what  was  due  to  him,  in  return 
for  the  sums  which  he  had  relinquished,  they  purchased,  and 
secured  to  him  by  deed,  a  house  more  spacious  than  he  would 
have  chosen  ;  and  this  was  all  his  property,  beyond  actual  ex- 
penditures, which  he  did  not  give  away. 

In  this  connexion  a  document  will  be  introduced,  contain- 
ing a  request,  such  as  it  would  be  equally  honorable  to  minis- 
ters and  people,  if  there  were  more  frequent  occasion  for : — 

*^  To  the  members  of  the  Second  Parish  in  Portland,  in  parish 

meeting  assembled — 
'^Gentlemen, 

"  It  is  a  circumstance  which  claims  my  thankful  acknowledg- 
ments, and  of  which  I  hope  ever  to  retain  a  grateful  recollection, 
that,  while  many  ministers  are  constrained  to  ask,  and,  perhaps, 
ask  in  vain,  for  an  increase  of  salary,  the  only  request  relative  to 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  303 

a  support,  which  I  have  ever  had  occasion  to  present  to  you,  is, 
that  my  salary  may  be  diminished.  Such  a  request,  you  will 
recollect,  I  made,  through  the  medium  of  one  of  the  parish,  at 
your  last  annual  meeting ;  but  your  kindness  and  liberality 
prevented  you  from  complying  with  it.  I  now  repeat  that  re- 
quest in  writing.  The  salary  which  you  voted  me  at  the  time 
of  my  settlement,  is  amply  sufficient  for  my  support ;  and  more 
than  this  I  am  unwilling  to  receive ;  for  I  can  never  consent 
to  acquire  wealth  by  preaching  the  gospel  of  Christ.  Permit 
me,  then,  respectfully,  but  earnestly,  to  request  that  the  addi- 
tion which  you  have  so  generously  made  to  my  salary,  the  last 
two  years,  may  be  discontinued. 

'*  That  the  Master  whom  I  serve  may  repay  all  your  kind- 
ness to  his  servant,  is  the  first  wish  and  most  earnest  prayer  of 
"  Your  deeply  indebted  and  grateful  pastor, 

"  Edward    Payson." 

''Portland,  Aprim,  1821." 

In  the  same  spirit,  after  his  last  sickness  had  made  such 
inroads  upon  his  strength,  as  almost  wholly  to  disqualify  him 
for  exertion,  he  dictated  the  following  communication  : — 

^^  April  27,  1827. 

"  To  the  members  of  the  Second  Congregational   Church  in 
Portland^  in  parish  meeting  assembled — 

<' Brethren  and  Friends, 

"  Of  the  kindness  and  generosity  with  which  you  have  inva- 
riably treated  me,  ever  since  I  became  your  pastor,  and  espe- 
cially since  the  commencement  of  my  present  indisposition,  I 
am  deeply  sensible.  Nor  have  you  given  me  the  smallest 
reason  to  suppose,  that  your  kindness  is  exhausted,  or  even 
diminished.  But  I  must  not  allow  myself  to  encroach  upon  it 
too  far.  It  is  my  indispensable  duty  to  prefer  your  spiritual 
welfare  to  every  personal  consideration.  If  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  your  religious  interests  would  be  promoted  by  a 
dissolution  of  the  connexion  between  us,  it  is  incumbent  on 
me  to  request,  that  it  may  be  dissolved;  and  to  retire  from  a 
station,  the  duties  of  which  I  am  no  longer  able  to  perform. 
And  have  I  not  reason  to  believe  that  such  is  the  fact?  With 
the  present  state  of  my  health  you  are  sufficiently  acquainted. 
It  has  already  occasioned  you  much  trouble  and  expense. 
You  have  waited  a  reasonable  time  for  its  restoration ;  and 
■  the  probability  that  it  will  ever  be  restored,  is  by  no  means 
great.     It  is  highly  important    that    such  a   society    as   this 


304  MEMOIR  OF 

should  enjoy  the  services  of  a  minister  who  possesses  a  vig- 
orous constitution,  firm  health,  and  ministerial  qualifications  of 
the  first  order ;  and  the  salary  which  it  gives  entitles  it  to 
expect,  and  will  enable  it  to  command,  the  services  of  such  a 
minister.  In  view  of  these  circumstances,  I  feel  a  prevailing 
persuasion,  that  it  is  my  duty  to  propose  a  dissolution  of  the 
connexion  between  us,  and  to  request  you  to  unite  with  me 
in  calling  a  council  for  the  purpose  of  dissolving  it.  Such  a 
proposition  and  request  I  now  submit  to  you. 

"  That  on  this  and  every  other  occasion  you  may  be  guided 
by  that  wisdom  which  is  from  above,  and  led  to  the  adoption 
of  such  measures  as  shall  be  most  conducive  to  the  glory  of 
God,  and  your  own  best  interests,  is  the  prayer  of 
"  Your  affectionate  friend  and  pastor, 

"  Edward   Payson.'^ 

This  request  was  received  and  treated  in  a  manner  most 
honorable  to  the  parish.  Their  reply  to  it  expressed  the  most 
^  deep  and  affectionate  sympathy  with  their  much  esteemed 
pastor,  and  a  sense  of  their  high  obligations  for  the  very  valu- 
able services,  which  a  kind  Providence  had  permitted  and  en- 
abled him  to  perform  for  a  long  course  of  years ;  and,  appreci- 
ating his  present  services,  much  as  they  were  interrupted  and 
curtailed  by  sickness,  of  paramount  value  and  interest  to  them, 
they  did  respectfully  solicit  that  he  would  be  pleased  to  with- 
drav»^  his  request ;  and  thus  permit  them  to  hope,  that,  whatever 
might  be  the  state  of  his  health  in  future,  they  should  enjoy 
the  benefit  of  his  counsel  and  prayers,  till  he  was  called  to 
receive  the  reward  prepared  for  the  faithful  servants  of  Christ.' 
— With  these  wishes,  so  affectionately  and  gratefully  expressed, 
he  complied;  and  continued,  in  such  ways  as  he  could,  to 
advance  their  spiritual  interests,  till  removed  by  the  undoubted 
will  of  God. 

But  there  are,  in  the  lives  of  eminently  faithful  ministers, 
events  of  another  character,  which  it  is  painful  to  narrate,  and 
yet  which  ought  not  to  be  passed  over  in  silence.  The  hostil- 
ity which  they  sometimes  experience,  illustrates  the  depravity 
of  mankind,  and  confirms  the  authority  of  Scripture  by  evincing 
the  truth  of  the  declaration, — "  If  any  man  will  live  godly  in 
Christ  Jesus,  he  shall  suffer  persecution.''  We  need  not  be 
surprised,  therefore,  that  Dr.  Payson  shduld  have  been  wick- 
edly assailed  in  his  character,  as  a  preacher  of  a  kindred  spirit 
was  assailed  before  him.  It  is  related  of  Richard  Baxter,  that 
when  he  was  shaking  the  strong  holds  of  error  and  iniquity  at 
Kidderminster,  a  drunken  slanderer  reported  concerning  him, 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  305 

that  be  had  been  seen  under  a  tree  with  a  profligate  woman ; 
and  thus  he  was  made  ''  the  song  of  the  drunkards."  But  the 
defamer,  being  brought  into  court,  was  obbged  to  explain,  that 
he  had  only  seen  Mr.  Baxter,  on  a  rainy  day,  on  horseback, 
under  an  oak,  which  grew  in  a  hedge,  while  a  woman  was 
standing  for  shelter  on  the  other  side  of  the  hedge. — A  still 
heavier  charge  had  been  brought  against  one  of  his  predeces- 
sors at  Kidderminster,  the  Rev.  John  Cross.  A  wicked  woman 
had  been  hired  to  bring  the  charge ;  but  Mr.  Cross,  at  her 
examination,  placed  himself  amongst  the  magistrates,  dressed 
as  they  were ;  and  when  she  was  asked,  if  one  of  them  was 
the  man,  she  looked  at  them,  and  said.  No;  and  thus  her  mal- 
ice was  defeated. 

A  wicked  w^oman  once  brought  against  Dr.  Payson  an  ac- 
cusation, under  circumstances  which  seemed  to  render  it  im- 
possible that  he  should  escape.  She  was  in  the  same  packet, 
in  which,  many  months  before,  he  had  gone  to  Boston.  For 
a  time,  it  seemed  almost  certain  that  his  character  would  be 
ruined.  He  was  cut  off  from  all  resource,  except  the  throne 
of  grace.  He  felt  that  his  only  help  was  in  God  ;  and  to  him 
he  addressed  his  fervent  prayer.  He  was  heard  by  the  De- 
fender of  the  innocent.  A  *  compunctious  visiting'  induced 
the  wretched  woman  to  confess  that  the  whole  was  a  malicious 
slander. 

He  was  such  "  a  terror  to  evil  doers,"  that  they  seemed  bent 
on  destroying  his  reputation;  and  multiplied  their  malicious 
slanders,  till  they  ceased  to  gain  any  credence  even  with  the 
vilest.  "  It  can't  be  true,"  said  an  opposer,  respecting  a  base 
calumny  of  Dr.  Payson.     "  No,"  said  another  ;   ^'  but  I  would 

give dollars,  if  it  were."    When  these  cruel  and  malicious 

designs  upon  his  character  proved  abortive,  their  enmity  mani- 
fested itself  in  other  forms.  He  once  alludes  to  this  opposition 
in  his  letters.  It  was  in  a  year  eminently  distinguished  by 
God's  blessing  on  his  labors : — 

"July^,  1816. 

'^  Enemies    rage   most   terribly.     You   have  probably 

seen  in  the  papers  an  account  of  the  attempt  to  burn  our 
meeting-house.     We    have   not   discovered   the    author ;    but 

there  is  no  doubt  that are  at  the  bottom  of  it.     It 

was  little  less  than  a  miracle,  that  the  house  was  not  burnt, 
with  many  others.  Never,  since  I  have  been  here,  has  the 
enmity  of  the  heart  been  permitted  to  rage  as  it  does  now. 
Every  one,  except  my  own  people,  seems  ready  to  curse  me ; 
and  I  am  weary  of  living  in  continual  strife." 
26* 


306  MEMOIR  OF 

The  good  man  at  length  found  rest  from  this  strife.  He 
came  out  of  every  trial  untarnished — yea,  the  brighter  for  the 
ordeal.  No  charge  could  be  sustamed  against  him,  but  such 
as  was  urged  against  the  prophet  in  Babylon ;  and  the  ultimate 
issue  was  not,  perhaps,  essentially  different.  It  was  increased 
respect  for  him,  and  veneration  for  his  God. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  307 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Further  particulars  relating  to  his  personal  history,  and  rc" 
ligious  exercises,  in  connexion  with  his  pastoral  labors  and 
their  results. 

It  was  not  thought  desirable  to  interrupt  a  description  of 
"  the  pastor  in  action,"  by  frequent  references  to  dates  ;  or  to 
pay  any  special  regard  to  chronological  order  in  a  rehearsal  of 
scenes  and  employments,  which  were  more  or  less  common  to 
every  year  of  his  ministry.  In  this  chapter,  however,  that  or- 
der is  resumed  for  the  purpose  of  continuing  the  history  of  his 
religious  experience  through  the  various  occurrences  and  vicis- 
situdes of  his  life.  The  particulars  will  be  given  almost  entirely 
in  his  own  language,  and  in  insulated  extracts,  which  will  be 
found,  however,  to  possess  the  principal  advantages  of  a  con- 
nected narrative,  besides  several  others,  which  no  second-hand 
statements  could  secure.  They  were  sketched  at  the  time, 
and  have  the  vividness  of  first  impressions  in  view  of  truths 
and  facts,  as  they  were  successively  brought  under  notice, 
while  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  penned  are  a  suf- 
ficient guarantee  of  their  accuracy.  The  articles  of  intelligence 
and  modes  of  elucidating  and  enforcing  truth,  which  are  in- 
terspersed, will  enhance  their  value ;  while  they  will  enable  the 
reader  to  view  the  subject  of  this  Memoir  in  a  greater  variety 
of  attitudes,  and  to  learn  his  exercises  and  feelings  in  numerous 
circumstances — in  prosperity,  and  under  the  rod  ;  when  borne 
along  on  the  full  tide  of  success,  and  when  thwarted  at  every 
step ;  when  religion  was  triumphant,  and  when  "  the  ways  of 
Zion  mourned." 


^'  Portland,  June  14,  1813. 
^'Mr  DEAR  Mother, 

"  We  arrived  here  last  Friday,  in  safety,  and  found  every 
thing  had  been  preserved  by  our  merciful  Protector.  We 
very  soon  had  reason  to  acknowledge  how  much  his  protection 
is  superior  to  ours ;  for,  the  very  night  after  our  return,  our 
garden  was  laid  waste. 

**  For  a  few  days  after  my  return,  I  was  exceedingly  unwell, 
and  there  seemed  less  prospect  of  my  continuing  in  the  ministry 


308  MEMOIR  OF 

than  ever.  In  addition,  I  was  more  severely  exercised  with 
spiritual  trials  than  I  have  been  for  two  years  past;  so  that 
the  five  days  succeeding  my  return  were,  perhaps,  as  dark  as 
any  five  days  that  I  ever  experienced.  But  now,  blessed  be 
God,  the  scene  has  wonderfully  changed.  For  three  days,  I 
have  felt  something  more  like  health  than  I  have  enjoyed  for 
years ;  something  of  that  spring  and  elasticity  of  spirit,  which 
used  to  render  life  tolerable,  and  exertion  pleasant.  How  long 
it  will  continue,  I  know  not.  It  seems  too  good  to  last.  I  see, 
however,  already,  that  if  the  burden  of  sickness  is  to  be  removed, 
some  other  burden,  perhaps  a  worse  one,  must  be  imposed  in 
its  place.  I  am  ready  to  run  wild  with  the  pleasure  of  not 
feeling  pain ;  though,  even  now,  I  am  not  altogether  free  from 
it. — If  my  health  should  be  restored,  I  shall  consider  it  as  lit- 
tle less  than  a  miracle ;  and  shall  feel  as  if  your  deafness  may 
be  removed.  Indeed,  I  think  it  will  strengthen  my  faith  as 
much  as  it  will  my  body.  It  will  also  remove  some  spiritual 
difficulties  and  doubts,  which  have  been  a  terrible  hinderance 
to  me  in  my  race,  and  given  unbelief  more  advantage  over  me 
than  all  other  things  united. — But  how  I  ramble ! 

**  We  have  little  encouraging  of  a  religious  nature,  though  the 
church  are,  I  believe,  much  engaged.  They  ought  to  be ;  for 
I  find  that  "  Portland  Christians"  have,  at  least,  a  name  to  live 
at  the  westward  ;  a  better  name,  I  fear,  than  they  will  ere  long 
deserve,  even  if  they  merit  it  now." 

"  Sept.  12,  1814. 
— ■—  "  I  engaged  to  go  on  a  mission,  if  my  people  would 
consent ;  but  they  will  not  hear  of  it.  The  church  would  con- 
sent, but  the  parish  will  not.  You  will  learn  from  the  news- 
papers, that  we  are  in  a  state  of  alarm  here,  or  I  should  say 
nothing  of  it.  Ever  since  our  return,  the  streets  have  been  fill- 
ed with  wagons,  &/C.,  carrying  goods  out  of  town,  and  the  alarm 
continues  and  increases.  We  had  hoped  to  have  a  quiet  Sab- 
bath yesterday;  but,  in  the  morning,  the  chairman  of  the 
committee  of  public  safety  called  and  informed  me,  that  the 
committee  had  issued  a  handbill,  requiring  all  the  male  citi- 
zens to  work,  through  the  day,  on  the  fortifications,  and  stating 
that  the  usual  religious  services  of  the  day  must  be  dispensed 
with.  With  this  order  our  church  absolutely  refused  to  com- 
ply, and  we  had  divine  service  both  parts  of  the  day,  as  usual, 
and  a  considerably  large  congregation.  This  morning,  all  is 
bustle  and  confusion  through  the  town.  We  have  sent  a  few 
things  to  Gorham ;  and,  in  case  of  an  attack,  we  can  pack  into 
the  chaise  and  follow.     You  have  no  reason  to  entertain  the 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  209 

smallest  fears  for  our  personal  safety.  In  ten  minutes  after 
an  alarm  is  given,  we  can  be  safe  out  of  town. — The  church 
seem  to  feel  in  some  measure  as  I  could  wish.  Strong  confi- 
dence in  God,  mingled  with  a  deep  sense  of  ill-desert,  and  sub- 
mission to  his  will,  is  displayed  by  them.  They  have  a  prayer 
meeting  every  evening ;  and,  next  Thursday,  if  circumstances 
permit,  we  are  to  have  a  fast.  At  our  house,  all  is  still  and 
quiet.  We  hear  little  of  the  noise,  and  have  slept  undisturbed 
every  night  till  the  last. — I  cannot  think  we  are  in  much  dan- 
ger. Not  that  great  dependence  is  to  be  placed  in  our  means 
of  defence ;  but  I  cannot  think  God  means  to  destroy  this 
place.  We  needed  something  to  rouse  us,  and  to  remind  us 
that  we  were  engaged  in  war,  and  to  excite  us  to  pray  for  the 
removal  of  God's  judgments ;  and  this  effect  the  alarm  has,  I 
trust,  produced.  It  tends  powerfully  to  wean  us  from  the  world ; 
so  that,  thus  far,  it  has  been  a  mercy." 

"  Nov.  14,  1814. 
We  are  going  on  as  well  as  can  be  expected.     L.  is 


well ;  little  L.  better  than  for  a  year  past ;  my  own  health 
slowly,  but  gradually,  improving.  Our  souls,  too,  I  hope,  are 
not  quite  so  far  from  prospering  and  being  in  health  as  they 
have  been ;  the  church  are  reviving,  and  there  are  many  hope- 
ful appearances  in  the  parish.  But  the  best  of  all  ig,  that  we 
seem  to  be  waking  up  in  this  part  of  the  country,  as  well  as  in 
others,  to  the  state  of  public  morals.  Delegates  from  nineteen 
towns  in  this  vicinity  met  in  this  town  last  week,  and  adopted 
a  number  of  measures  to  secure  the  proper  observance  of  the 
Sabbath.  A  similar  meeting  for  the  county  of  Lincoln  is  to 
be  held  this  week  at  Wiscasset.  These  things,  and  others  of 
a  similar  nature,  of  which  I  hear  abroad,  almost  lead  me  to  cry, 
with  old  Simeon — "  Let  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine 
eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation !"  We  shall  yet  see  peace  upon 
our  Israel ;  and  I  have  very  little  doubt,  that,  after  the  war  ceas- 
es, we  shall  have  greater  revivals  through  the  land  than  we 
have  ever  yet  seen.  It  was  harder  to  do  what  has  been  done, 
both  in  the  world  and  among  us,  than  to  do  what  remains. 
The  wheel  is  now  in  motion,  and  will  be  kept  so  with  com- 
parative ease.  It  is  a  glorious  day  to  live  in !  So  much  to 
be  done ;  so  much  to  be  prayed  for ;  so  much  to  be  seen.  I 
was  wrong  in  saying,  I  wished  to  depart  in  peace.  I  wish  to 
stay,  and  see,  and  do  a  little  more.  I  would  not  now  exchange 
a  place  in  the  church  below,  even  for  a  place  in  heaven.  The 
longer  our  time  of  labor  is,  the  better.  There  will  be  time 
enough  for  rest. 


310  MEMOIR  OF 

'*  Dr. died  last  week.     I  saw  him  repeatedly  during 

his  illness ;  but  not  a  word  of  a  religious  nature  did  he  utter ; 
and,  I  am  told,  he  said  as  little  to  others.  He  was  a  minister 
upwards  of  fifty  years.  What  a  meeting  it  must  be,  when  a 
pastor  meets  all  who  have  died  under  his  ministry,  during  so 
many  years ;  especially,  if  he  has  never  faithfully  warned 
them ! 

"  Our  people  feel  the  consequences  of  the  war  very  much. 
I  am  astonished  to  see  how  well  they  continue  to  pay  my  salary  ; 
and  still  more,  to  see  how  liberally  they  give  to  every  proper 
object.  Their  deep  poverty  serves  to  set  off  the  riches  of  their 
liberality.  If  they  were  like  many  congregations,  I  should 
soon  be  turned  out.  Many,  however,  have  moved  away,  on 
account  of  the  war ;  and  if  it  continues,  the  rest  must  follow. 
However,  we  serve  a  good  Master ;  and  while  he  has  work  for 
us  to  do,  he  will  feed  us.  I  rejoice  to  learn,  that  you  find 
"  the  joy  of  the  Lord  your  strength.'^  It  is  strength  indeed.  I 
hope  my  father  finds  as  much  reason  to  rejoice  in  the  progress 
of  reformation  in  New  Hampshire,  as  we  do  here/' 

'•' JwneS,  1815. 
I    shall   not  be    able  to  visit  Rindge  this    summer. 


Journeying  does  me  so  little  good,  and  I  have  been  absent  so 
long,  that  I  shall  not  dare  to  think  of  it  at  present.  Were  it 
possible,  I  would  come  about  the  time  of  the  ordination  of  the 
missionaries,  at  Nevvburyport,  to  which  our  church  is  invited ; 
but  I  fear  it  will  not  be. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  poor :  but  my  sorrow  is  mitigated,  if 

not  removed,  by  reflecting,  that  if  he  is  a  Christian,  all  things 
are  working  for  his  good  ;  and  if  he  is  not,  an  education  will  do 
him  more  harm  than  good.  I  have  grown  quite  hard-hearted, 
as  it  respects  the  trials  of  Christians.  I  scarcely  pity  them  at 
all,  while  under  the  rod,  though  I  am  sorry  we  all  need  it  so 
much.  However,  I  sympathize  with  you,  my  dear  mother,  in 
your  want  of  hearing.  It  is  a  grievous  trial ;  and  if,  as  you 
intimate,  frequent  letters  would  in  any  degree  mitigate  it,  I 
will  strive  to  write  oftener. — I  trust  our  revival  has  not  ceased ; 
though  it  will  not,  I  fear,  prove  so  extensive  as  I  at  first 
hoped." 

"  Sept.  1,  1815. 

"  Do  not  feel  anxious  about  me.     I  am,  you  know,  in 

good  hands — in  better  hands  than  yours  ;  and,  when  you  con- 
sider how  good  God  has  been  to  me,  you  can  have  no  reason 
to  fear  that  he  will  deal  with  me  otherwise  than  well. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  311 

"  I  have  little  to  write,  respecting  our  situation  in  a  religious 
view,  that  is  encouraging  ;  but  things  look  promising  in  many 
other  places  at  a  distance.  You  have  heard  of  the  revivals  at 
Litchfield  and  New  Haven.  An  account  of  these  revivals, 
read  in  Rowley,  has  occasioned  the  commencement  of  a  sim- 
ilar work  there,  which  promises  to  become  extensive.     There 

is  also  considerable  attention  among  the  students  in 

Academy  ;  and  a  letter,  which  I  have  just  received  from  a  gen- 
tleman in  Baltimore,  informs  me  that  there  is  a  revival  in  an 
academy  in  that  vicinity,  and  in  two  or  three  other  places. 
It  certainly  appears  more  and  more  probable,  that  God  is  about 
to  work  wonders  in  most  of  our  seminaries  of  learning ; 
and,  if  so,  who  can  calculate  the  blessed  effects  which  will 
be  the  result  ? 

"  The  revolution  in  Dartmouth  College  makes  a  great  noise 
here.  Losing  Mr.  Brown  will  be  a  grievous  blow  to  me.  I 
think  the  trustees  could  hardly  have  made  a  better  choice." 

On  perusing  the  following,  it  is  difficult  to  repress  a  wish 
that  the  writer  had  been  under  the  necessity  of  "  fitting  up  a 
house"  every  year  : — 

''Portland,  Nov.  1,1S15. 
"My  dear  Mother, 

"  I  fear  you  will  think  me  very  negligent  in  delaying  so  long 
to  answer  your  letter  ;  but  I  have  an  excuse  ready.  We  have 
been  moving,  and  repairing  our  house,  and  I  have  been  almost 
incessantly  engaged,  night  and  day.  We  have  had  half  a 
score  of  workmen  in  the  house,  and  I  have  been  obliged  to 
superintend  and  work  with  them  ;  and  this,  in  addition  to 
parochial  duties,  has  so  hurried  me,  that  I  have  scarcely  had 
time  to  eat.  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  my  cares  and  la- 
bors have  had  a  very  beneficial  effect,  with  respect  to  my 
health,  so  that  I  have  gained  more  in  fourteen  days  than  in  as 
many  months  previous.  I  have  also  enjoyed  a  much  higher 
degree  of  spiritual  health  than  usual,  and  have  had  many  spe- 
cial mercies,  both  of  a  temporal  and  religious  nature ;  so  that 
I  have  seldom  passed  six  happier  weeks  than  the  last.  Our 
house  proves  much  more  convenient  than  we  expected,  and 
we  have  seen  much  of  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God  in 
bringing  us  into  it.  It  is  the  same  house  in  which  I  formerly 
boarded  when  preceptor — in  which  I  spent  some  months  in 
folly  and  sin,  and  in  which  I  received  the  news  of  Charles's 
death,  and  began  to  turn  my  attention  to  religion.  These 
circumstances  give  it  an  interest  of  a  peculiar  kind,  and  fur- 


312  MEMOIR  OF 

nish  matter  for  many  humbling,  many  mournful,  and  not  a 
few  thankful  and  profitable  reflections.  O  what  a  Master  do 
I  serve  !  I  have  known  nothing,  felt  nothing,  all  my  days, 
even  in  comparison  with  what  I  now  see  in  him.  Never  was 
preaching  such  sweet  work  as  it  is  now.  Never  did  the  world 
seem  such  a  nothing.  Never  did  heaven  appear  so  near,  so 
sweet,  so  overwhelmingly  glorious.  .  .  .  God's  promises  ap- 
pear so  strong,  so  solid,  so  real,  so  substantial, — more  so  than 
the  rocks  and  everlasting  hills  ;  and  his  perfections, — what 
shall  I  say  of  them  ?  When  I  think  of  one,  I  wish  to  dwell 
upon  it  forever  ;  but  another,  and  another,  equally  glorious, 
claims  a  share  of  admiration  ;  and,  when  I  begin  to  praise,  I 
wish  never  to  cease,  but  have  it  the  commencement  of  that 
song  which  will  never  end.  Very  often  have  I  felt  as  if  I 
could  that  moment  throw  off  the  body  without  staying  to  *  first 
go  and  bid  them  farewell  that  are  at  home  in  my  house.'  Let 
who  will  be  rich,  or  admired,  or  prosperous  ;  it  is  enough  for 
me  that  there  is  such  a  God  as  Jehovah,  such  a  Saviour  as 
Jesus,  and  that  they  are  infinitely  and  unchangeably  glorious 
and  happy.'' 

The  year  1816  was  the  most  remarkably  distinguished  for 
the  effusions  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on  his  people,  of  any  year  of 
his  ministry,  with  the  exception  of  that  in  which  his  happy 
spirit  took  its  flight,  when  he  preached  so  much  from  the  bed 
of  death.  This  fact  the  reader  will  regard  as  a  striking  com- 
mentary on  the  subjoined  extracts  from  his  diary  : — 

"  Dec.  16.  Since  the  last  date,  I  have  passed  through  a 
greater  variety  of  scenes  and  circumstances  than  in  almost 
any  period  of  equal  length  in  my  whole  life,  and  have  ex- 
perienced severer  sufferings,  conflicts,  and  disappointments. 
Some  time  in  February,  I  began  to  hope  for  a  revival ;  and, 
after  much  prayer  for  direction,  and,  as  I  thought,  with  confi- 
dence in  God,  I  took  some  extraordinary,  and  perhaps  impru- 
dent,* measures  to  hasten  it.  But  the  event  did  not  answer 
my  expectations  at  all ;  and,  in  consequence,  I  was  thrown 
into  a  most  violent  commotion,  and  was  tempted  to  think  God 
unkind  and  unfaithful.  For  some  weeks,  I  could  not  think 
of  my  disappointment  with  submission.  There  were  many 
aggravating  circumstances  attending  it,  which  rendered  it  in- 
comparably the  severest  disappointment,  and,  of  course,  the 
most  trying  temptation,  I  had  ever  met  with.     It  injured  my 

^  See  Chapter  XIV. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  313 

health  to  such  a  degree,  that  I  was  obliged  to  spend  the  sum- 
mer in  journeying,  to  recover  my  health.  This,  however,  did 
not  avail,  and  I  returned  worse  than  I  went  away,  and  plunged 
in  the  depths  of  discouragement.  Was  obliged,  sorely  against 
my  will,  to  give  up  my  evening  lectures,  and  to  preach  old 
sermons.  After  a  while,  however,  my  health  began  to  return, 
though  very  slowly.  God  was  pleased  to  revisit  me,  and  to 
raise  me  up  out  of  the  horrible  pit  and  miry  clay,  in  which  I 
had  so  long  lain  ;  and  my  gratitude  for  this  mercy  far  exceed- 
ed all  I  felt  at  my  first  conversion.  Sin  never  appeared  so 
odious,  nor  Christ  so  precious,  before.  Soon  after  this,  my 
hopes  of  a  revival  began  to  return.  About  a  month  since, 
very  favorable  appearances  were  seen,  and  my  endeavors  to 
rouse  the  church  seemed  to  be  remarkably  blessed.  My  whole 
soul  was  gradually  wrought  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  eager 
expectation  and  desire  ;  1  had  great  assistance  in  observing  a 
day  of  fasting  and  prayer  ;  the  annual  thanksgiving  was  bless- 
ed in  a  very  remarkable  and  surprising  manner,  both  to  my- 
self and  the  church.  From  these  and  many  other  circumstan- 
ces, I  was  led  to  expect,  very  confidently,  that  the  next  Sab- 
bath, which  was  our  communion,  would  be  a  glorious  day,  and 
that  Christ  would  then  come  to  convert  the  church  a  second 
time,  and  prepare  them  for  a  great  revival.  I  had  great  free- 
dom in  prayer,  both  on  Saturday  night  and  Sabbath  morning; 
and,  after  resigning,  professedly,  the  whole  matter  to  God,  and 
telling  him  that,  if  he  should  disappoint  us,  it  would  be  all 
right,  I  went  to  meeting.  But  what  a  disappointment  awaited 
me  !  I  was  more  straitened  than  for  a  year  before  ;  it  was  a 
very  dull  day,  both  to  myself  and  the  church  ;  all  my  hopes 
seemed  dashed  to  the  ground  at  once,  and  I  returned  home  in 
an  agony  not  to  be  described.  Instead  of  vanquishing  Satan, 
I  was  completely  foiled  and  led  captive  by  him  ;  all  my  hopes 
of  a  revival  seemed  blasted,  and  I  expected  nothing  but  a  rep- 
etition of  the  same  conflicts  and  suflferings  which  I  had  en- 
dured after  my  disappointment  last  spring,  and  which  I  dread- 
ed a  thousand  times  worse  than  death.  Hence  my  mind  was 
exceedingly  imbittered.  Sut,  though  the  storm  was  sudden 
and  violent,  it  was  short.  My  insulted,  abused  Master  pitied 
and  prayed  for  me,  that  my  faith  might  not  fail ;  and  there- 
fore, after  Satan  had  been  permitted  to  sift  me  as  wheat,  I  was 
delivered  out  of  his  power ;  and,  strange  as  it  even  now  ap- 
pears to  me,  repentance  and  pardon  were  given  me,  and  I  was 
taken,  with  greater  kindness  than  ever,  to  the  bosom  of  that 
Saviour  whom  I  had  so  insulted.  Nor  was  this  all ;  the  trial 
was  beneficial  to  me.  It  showed  me  the  selfishness  of  my 
27 


314  MEMOIR  OF 

prayers  for  a  revival,  and  my  self-deception  in  thinking  I  was 
willing  to  be  disappointed,  if  God  pleased.  It  convinced  me 
that  I  was  not  yet  prepared  for  such  a  blessing,  and  that  much 
more  wisdom  and  grace  were  necessary  to  enable  me  to  con- 
duct a  revival  properly,  than  I  had  ever  imagined  before.  On 
the  whole,  though  the  past  year  has  been  one  of  peculiar  trial 
and  suffering,  I  have  reason  to  hope  it  has  not  been  unprofita- 
ble, and  that  I  have  not  suffered  so  many  things  altogether  in 
vain.  I  have  seen  more  of  myself  and  of  Christ  than  I  ever 
saw  before ;  and  can,  at  times,  feel  more  of  the  frame  describ- 
ed in  Ezekiel  xvi.  63,  than  I  ever  expected  to  feel  a  year 
since.  The  gospel  way  of  salvation  appears  much  more  glori- 
ous and  precious,  and  sin  more  hateful.  I  can  see,  supposing 
a  revival  is  to  come,  that  it  was  a  great  mercy  to  have  it  so 
long  delayed.  My  hopes,  that  it  will  yet  come,  are  perhaps 
as  strong  as  ever,  but  my  mind  is  on  the  rack  of  suspense,  and 
I  can  scarcely  support  the  conflict  of  mingled  anxieties,  de- 
sires and  expectations.  Meanwhile,  appearances  are  every 
week  more  favorable,  the  heavens  are  covered  with  clouds,  and 
some  drops  have  already  fallen.  Such  are  the  circumstances 
in  which  I  commence  the  ninth  year  of  my  ministry  ;  and 
surely  never  did  my  situation  call  more  loudly  for  fasting  and 
prayer  than  now. 

"  In  the  preceding  sketch  of  the  past  year,  I  have  said  little 
of  my  own  wickedness,  or  of  God's  goodness ;  for,  indeed,  I 
know  not  what  to  say.  The  simple  statements  which  I  have 
made  of  facts,  speak  more  loudly  in  favor  of  Christ,  and  against 
myself,  than  any  thing  else  can  do.  I  used  to  think  that  re- 
pentance and  confession  bore  some  small  proportion  to  my 
sins  ;  but  now  there  seems  to  be  no  more  proportion  between 
them  than  between  finite  and  infinite.  I  can  see  that  I  once 
trusted  much  to  my  repentance  ;  but  now  my  repentance 
seems  one  of  my  worst  sins,  on  account  of  its  exceeding  im- 
perfection. 

"  For  an  hour  or  two,  I  have  enjoyed  as  much  assistance  as 
I  usually  do  on  such  occasions  ;  but  I  see  more  and  more 
how  exceedingly  little  there  is  of  spirituality  in  my  best  affec- 
tions. Imagination,  natural  affections,  and  self-love,  compose 
by  much  the  largest  part  of  my  experiences.  Indeed,  I  can 
scarcely  discover  any  thing  else.  It  is  like  a  fire  just  kindled  ; 
much  smoke,  some  blaze,  but  little  heat.  I  have  been  pray- 
ing, more  than  I  ever  did  before,  for  more  spiritual  affec- 
tion and  clearer  views  ;  but  as  yet  my  gracious  God  does  not 
answer  my  request.  But  he  knows  best,  and  with  him  I  can 
leave  it. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  315 

"  Was  favored,  while  reading  Owen  on  the  Hebrews,  with 
new  and  unusually  clear  views  of  many  things  respecting  our 
Saviour's  sufferings,  which  filled  me  with  wonder  and  delight. 
O,  how  little  have  I  known,  how  little  do  I  still  know,  of  the 
great  mystery  of  godliness  !  In  the  evening,  hoped  I  felt 
something  of  what  the  apostle  calls  travailing  in  birth  for 
souls.  I  was  in  such  a  state  of  mind  as  I  cannot  well  de- 
scribe, but  it  seemed  to  be  almost  insupportable. 

"  Dec.  17.  Had  a  most  sweet,  refreshing  season  in  prayer 
last  night.  The  unsearchable  riches  seemed  opened  to  me, 
to  take  as  much  as  I  pleased.  Had  great  liberty  in  pray- 
ing for  a  revival ;  and  could  scarcely  give  over  the  blessed 
work,  though  much  exhausted.  This  morning,  was  in  the 
same  frame.  Was  especially  affected  and  delighted  with  the 
proof  of  love  which  he  required  from  Peter,  "  Feed  my  sheep." 
Prayed  that  I  might  be  enabled  to  feed  them  this  day.  Went 
to  the  house  of  God  with  more  of  such  a  frame  as  I  wished 
than  usual.  I  have  hitherto  had  no  liberty  in  praying  for  a 
revival  in  public.  However  much  I  might  feel  at  home,  it  was 
taken  from  me  as  soon  as  I  entered  the  meeting-house.  But 
to-day  my  fetters  were  taken  off.  I  could  pray  for  nothing  but 
a  revival. 

*^  Dec.  ]  8.  Felt  unusually  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  the 
wisdom  and  grace  necessary  to  conduct  a  revival ;  but  was 
enabled  to  trust  in  God  to  supply  my  wants.  Spent  the  even- 
ing with  Christian  friends.  Prayed  for  a  blessing  on  the  visit, 
and  found  it  a  sweet  season.  Afler  my  return,  had  a  most 
refreshing  and  delightful  season  in  prayer.  Had  no  longer 
the  least  doubt  of  a  revival,  and  my  joy  was  unspeaka- 
ble. Continued  sweetly  meditating  and  praying,  till  I  fell 
asleep. 

"  Dec.  19.  New  joys,  new  praises.  Had  a  most  ravishing 
view  of  Christ  this  morning,  as  coming  at  a  distance  in  the 
chariot  of  his  salvation.  In  an  instant  he  was  with  me,  and 
around  me  ;  and  I  could  only  cry.  Welcome !  welcome  !  a 
thousand  times  welcome  to  my  disconsolate  heart,  and  to  thy 
widowed  church  !  O,  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory ! — 
while  seeing  him  not,  I  feel  and  believe  his  presence.  Spent 
the  evening  with  the  church,  after  much  prayer,  both  alone  and 
with  others,  that  Christ  would  meet  and  bless  us.  Went  to 
meeting  trembling,  and  my  fears  were  realized.  I  was  en- 
tirely deserted,  had  nothing  to  say,  and  was  obliged  to  leave 
them  abruptly.  They  sat  stupid  awhile,  after  I  left  them,  and 
then  separated.  This  was  a  sore  trial.  Impatience  and  self- 
will  struggled  hard  for  leave  to  say  something  against  Christ ; 


8iG  MEMOIR  OF 

but  I  was  enabled  to  flee  to  the  throne  of  grace,  and  found 
relief.  One  thing  is  certain.  I  have  no  direct  promise  that 
there  shall  be  a  revival  ;  but  I  have  a  thousand  direct,  posi- 
tive assurances  that  Christ  is  faithful,  and  wise,  and  kind. 
This,  therefore,  faith  will  believe,  whatever  becomes  of  my 
hopes  and  wishes ;  and  it  is  evidently  absurd  to  profess  to  trust 
in  God  for  what  he  has  not  expressly  promised,  while  I  do  not 
believe  his  positive  assurances. 

"  Dec.  24.  Enjoyed  great  nearness  to  Christ  in  family 
prayer.  Seemed  to  feel  a  perfect  union  with  him,  and  to  love, 
with  a  most  intense  love,  every  thing  that  is  dear  to  him. 
Christians  seemed  inexpressibly  dear  to  me,  and  I  loved  to 
pray  for  them  as  for  myself.  But,  O,  where  have  I  been  ? 
and  what  have  I  been  doing  all  my  days  ?  How  terribly  blind 
and  ignorant  of  religion  have  I  been  !  and  now  I  know  noth- 
ing, feel  nothing  as  I  ought.  Saw  that  there  is  incomparably 
more  to  be  known  and  felt  in  religion  than  I  ever  thought  of 
before.  What  a  pity,  that  I  have  lost  so  many  of  the  best 
years  of  my  life  in  contented  ignorance  ;  and  what  would  I 
not  give  for  the  years  I  have  lost.  I  never  can  be  humbled 
sufficiently  for  my  indolence.  As  it  respects  a  revival,  I  feel 
easy.  My  anxiety  has  subsided  into  a  settled  calm,  aris- 
ing from  a  full  persuasion  that  Christ  will  come  and  save 
us. 

"  Dec.  30.  Was  greatly  assisted  in  praying  for  a  revival, 
and  felt  almost  a  full  assurance  that  it  would  be  granted. 
Felt  sweetly  melted,  and  almost  overpowered  with  a  sense 
of  God's  sovereign,  unmerited  love.  Could  not  forbear  saying 
to  him,  that  he  ought  not  to  save  such  a  guilty  creature  ;  or, 
at  least,  ought  not  to  employ  me,  and  bless  my  labors  ;  but  he 
seemed  to  reply,  with  great  power  and  majesty,  "  I  will  have 
mercy  on  whom  I  will  have  mercy."  Could  not  but  submit, 
that  it  should  be  so.  Never  did  the  sovereignty  of  God  ap- 
pear so  sweet  as  then.  Spent  part  of  the  evening  in  religious 
conversation  with  my  domestics. 

''Jan.  4,  1816.  Preached  the  evening  lecture  without 
much  sensible  assistance.  After  meeting,  one  of  the  church 
informed  me,  that  in  the  afternoon  a  man,  (who  had  formerly 
been  one  of  the  first  merchants  in  town,)  once  a  professor,  but 
who  has  been  for  many  years  an  apostate,  and  bitter  enemy  to 
religion,  came  to  him  apparently  much  distressed  respecting 
his  salvation  ;  and  that  the  same  man  was  at  lecture.  This 
good  news  filled  us  with  joy  and  triumph,  so  that  all  doubts 
of  a  revival  seemed  removed.  O,  I  wanted,  even  then, 
to  begin  my  eternal  song ;  and  excess  of  happiness  became 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  317 

almost  painful.  Could  scarcely  sleep  for  joy,  though  much 
fatigued. 

"  Jan.  5.  Had  similar  views  and  feelings  this  morning,  but 
less  vivid.  Took  a  review  of  God's  dealings  with  me,  and  of  my 
own  exercises  respecting  the  revival.  Saw  infinite  wisdom  and 
goodness  in  every  thing  that  God  has  done,  and  could  not  but 
admire  and  praise.  As  to  my  feelings,  though  they  seemed  little 
better  than  a  mass  of  pride,  and  selfishness,  and  impatience, 
yet  I  could  not  but  see  that  there  was  some  real  faith  under 
all,  which  God  had  accepted.  Afterwards,  however,  reflect- 
ing on  the  feelings  of  papists  towards  their  saints,  and  pagans 
towards  their  idols,  I  was  led  to  doubt  whether  I  had  exercis- 
ed any  real  faith  at  all.  Attended  a  fast.  Endeavored  to 
convince  the  church  how  polluted  the  conference  room  must 
be  in  the  sight  of  God,  in  consequence  of  the  sins  which  had 
been  committed  there.  Then  made  a  confession  of  them,  and 
prayed  that  it  might  be  cleansed.  Then  did  the  same  with 
respect  to  our  closets,  and  houses,  and  afterwards  the  house 
of  God,  and  the  communion  table.  Then  read  and  expound- 
ed the  new  covenant,  and  showed  what  was  meant  by  taking 
hold  of  it.  Finished  by  imploring  all  the  blessings  of  this  cov- 
enant on  the  church,  and  praying  for  a  revival. 

"  Jan.  7.  Sabbath.  Had  no  freedom  either  in  prayer  or 
preaching,  and  the  congregation  appeared  uncommonly  stupid. 
Concluded  that  there  was  to  be  no  revival  under  me.  Was 
exceedingly  distressed,  but  felt  no  disposition  to  murmur,  or 
be  impatient.  Withdrew  to  my  chamber,  to  weep  and  pray. 
It  seemed  clear,  that  I  was  the  great  obstacle  to  a  revival. 
I  have  not  "rendered  again  according  to  the  benefit  done 
unto  me,  but  my  heart  has  been  lifted  up ;  therefore  is  there 
wrath  upon  my  people."  Threw  myself  in  the  dust  at  God's 
feet.  Derived  some  comfort  from  often  repeating  those  words, 
*  I  will  be  gracious  to  whom  I  will  be  gracious.'  It  seemed 
sweet,  as  well  as  reasonable,  that  God  should  be  a  sovereign, 
and  do  what  he  will  with  his  own." 

'•Mirc/i  1,1816. 

"  Could  I,  my  dear  mother,  tell  you  all  the  good  news 

I  have  so  long  been  waiting  for,  it  would  be  some  comfort  ; 
but  I  can  say  but  little  compared  with  what  I  hoped  to  be 
able  to  say  before  this  time ;  nor  can  I  yet  determine  how  it 
will  go  with  us.  We  have  about  eighty  inquirers,  and  several, 
I  hope,  are  converted ;  but  this  is  nothing  to  what  we  expect- 
ed. However,  we  would  be  thankful  for  a  drop,  if  we  cannot 
have  a  shower.  It  has  been  a  trying  season  with  me  this 
27* 


318  MEMOIR  OF 

winter.  While  pursuing  the  revival,  it  seemed  as  if  I  must 
die  in  the  pursuit,  and  never  overtake  it." 

'-  April  \,  1816. 

. "  I  am  so  worn  down  with  constant  cares  and  labors, 

that  my  affections  seem  to  be  all  dried  up,  "  and  I  am  wither- 
ed like  grass."  However,  I  hope  you  have  received,  ere  this, 
a  few  lines,  as  a  proof  that  I  have  not  quite  forgotten,  or  ceas- 
ed to  love  my  mother. 

*'Our  revival  still  lingers:  it,  however,  increases  slowly.  I 
have  conversed  with  about  forty  who  entertain  hopes,  and 
with  about  sixty  more  who  are  inquiring.  Twenty-three  have 
joined  the  church  since  the  year  commenced.  The  work  is  ev- 
idently not  over ;  but  whether  it  will  prove  general,  is  still 
doubtful.  There  is  quite  a  revival  at  Bath,  below  us.  Nearly 
two  hundred  have  been  awakened.  In  Philadelphia,  seventy- 
one  were  added  to  a  single  church  at  one  time,  a  few  weeks 
since.  In  New  York  and  Baltimore,  also,  there  are  revivals. 
You  have  probably  heard,  that  there  have  been  revivals  among 
the  Hottentots.  Two  hundred  were  added  to  the  church  in 
one  year,  and  ten  Hottentot  preachers  ordained.  There  is 
much  more  good  news  of  a  similar  nature.  Surely  we  live  in 
a  good  day,  and  I  believe  you  will  yet  see  good  days  in 
Rindge.  Their  liberality  in  raising  father's  salary,  is  a  token 
for  good  ;  and  I  rejoice  in  it  more  for  that  reason  than  for  any 
other.  Those  who  are  most  willing  to  pay  for  the  gospel,  are 
most  likely  to  have  it  blessed  to  them. 

"  We  go  on  very  happily  in  every  respect.  I  have  been  fa- 
vored with  a  long  calm,  or  rather  sunshine.  Every  thing  is 
easy  ;  I  am  careful  for  nothing ;  Christ  is  so  precious  and  so 
near  ;  my  cup  runneth  over.  Every  day  I  expect  a  storm,  but 
it  does  not  come.  Doubtless  I  have  many  bitter,  trying 
scenes  to  pass  through  yet ;  worse  than  any  I  have  heretofore 
experienced.  But  I  care  not.  He  will  carry  me  through.  I 
wish  to  mention  to  you  some  passages,  which  have  been  pecu- 
liarly sweet  of  late.  One  is  this :  *'  He  caused  them  to  be 
pittied  of  all  them  by  whom  they  were  carried  away  captive." 
Scarcely  any  passage  of  Scripture  seems  to  me  so  expressive 
of  God's  goodness  to  his  people  as  this.  After  they  had  pro- 
voked him,  till  he  banished  them  from  the  good  land,  still  he 
pitied  them,  and  made  their  enemies  pity  them.  It  sounds 
like  David's  language — *'  Deal  gently  with  the  young  man  Ab- 
salom for  my  sake." 

"  Another  is  the  account  of  our  Saviour's  ascension,  in  the 
last  chapter  of  Luke  :  "  And  he  lifted  up  his  hands,  and  bless- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  319 

ed  them.  And  while  he  blessed  them,"  &/C.  Observe,  ^^  while 
he  blessed,"  &c.  The  last  thing  he  was  ever  seen  to  do  on 
earth,  was  to  hless  his  disciples.  He  went  up,  scattering  bless- 
ings ;  and  he  has  done  nothing  but  bless  them  ever  since." 

''  Sept.  19, 1816. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  at  all,  my  dear  mother,  at  your  discover- 
ing from  my  letters,  the  jaded,  languid  state  of  my  mental 
faculties.  They  have  long  since  lost  all  the  elasticity  which 
they  ever  possessed,  and  my  mind  is  "  as  dry  as  the  remainder 
biscuit,  after  a  voyage." 

"  On  the  whole,  the  past  summer  has  been  the  hap- 
piest which  I  have  enjoyed  since  I  was  settled.  Were  it  not 
for  the  dreadfully  depressing  effects  of  ill  health,  I  should  be 
almost  too  happy.  It  seems  to  me,  that  no  domestic  troubles, 
not  even  the  loss  of  wife  and  children,  could  disturb  me  much, 
might  I  enjoy  such  consolations  as  I  have  been  favored  with 
most  of  the  time  since  the  date  of  my  last  letter.  Soon  after 
that,  the  revival,  which  I  feared  was  at  an  end,  began  again, 
and  things  now  look  as  promising  as  ever.  My  meeting-house 
overflows,  and  some  of  the  church  are  obliged  to  stay  at  home, 
on  account  of  the  impossibility  of  obtaining  seats.  I  have,  in 
the  main,  been  favored  with  great  liberty  for  me,  both  in  the 
pulpit  and  out ;  and  it  has  very  often  seemed  as  if — could  I 
only  drop  the  body — I  could  continue,  without  a  moment's 
pause,  to  praise  and  adore  to  all  eternity.  This  good- 
ness is  perfectly  astonishing  and  incomprehensible.  I  am 
in  a  maze,  whenever  I  think  of  it.  Every  day,  for  years, 
I  have  been  expecting  some  dreadful  judgments,  reckon- 
ing, as  Hezekiah  did,  that  as  a  lion  God  would  break  all 
my  bones,  and,  from  day  even  to  night,  make  an  end  of 
me  ?  Now,  and  now,  I  have  said  to  myself,  it  is  coming. 
Now,  God  will  cast  me  out  of  his  vineyard.  Now,  he  will 
lay  me  aside  or  withdraw  his  Spirit,  and  let  me  fall  into  some 
great  sin.  But,  instead  of  the  judgments  which  I  expected 
and  deserve,  he  sends  nothing  but  mercies  ;  such  great  mer- 
cies, too,  that  I  absolutely  stagger  under  them,  and  all  my 
words  are  swallowed  up. 

"  But,  great  as  my  reasons  are  to  love  God  for  his  favors, 
methinks  he  is  infinitely  more  precious  on  account  of  his  per- 
fections. Never  did  he  appear  so  inexpressibly  glorious  and 
lovely  as  he  has  for  some  weeks  past.  He  is,  indeed,  all  in 
all.  I  have  nothing  to  fear,  nothing  to  hope  from  creatures. 
They  are  all  mere  shadows  and  puppets.  There  is  only  one 
Being  in  the  universe,  and  that  Being  is  God ;  may  I  add, 


320  MEMOIR  OF 

He  is  my  God.  I  long  to  go  and  see  him  in  heaven.  I  long 
still  more  to  stay  and  serve  him  on  earth.  Rather,  I  rejoice 
to  be  just  where  he  pleases,  and  to  be  what  he  pleases.  Nev- 
er did  selfishness  and  pride  appear  so  horrid.  Never  did  I 
see  myself  to  be  such  a  monster ;  so  totally  dead  to  all  wisdom 
and  goodness.  But  I  can  point  up,  and  say — There  is  my 
righteousness,  my  wisdom,  my  all.  In  the  hands  of  Christ  I 
lie  passive  and  helpless,  and  am  astonished  to  see  how  he  can 
work  in  me.  He  does  all ;  holds  me  up,  carries  me  forward, 
works  in  me  and  by  me  ;  while  I  do  nothing,  and  yet  never 
worked  faster  in  my  life.  To  say  all  in  a  word — "  My  soul 
followeth  hard  after  thee  ;  thy  right  hand  upholdeth  me." 

"  Our  inquirers  are  about  seventy.  We  are  building  a  con- 
ference-house, to  hold  500  people.  Some  of  the  church,  who 
can  ill  afford  it,  give  fifty  dollars  each  towards  it." 

"  December  9;  1816. 

"  In  a  religious  view,  things  remain  very  much  as  they  have 
been.  We  have  about  fifty  inquirers ;  but  they  do  not  seem, 
except  in  a  few  instances,  to  be  very  deeply  impressed, 
and  their  progress  is  slow.  We  have  admitted  seventy-two 
persons  into  the  church  during  the  present  year.  Our  new 
conference-house  has  been  finished  some  weeks  ;  cost  about 
twelve  hundred  dollars.  At  its  dedication,  and  at  a  quarterly 
fast  held  in  it  the  same  w^eek,  we  enjoyed  the  divine  presence 
in  a  greater  degree,  I  think,  than  we  ever  did  before  as  a 
church.  I  would  not  have  given  a  straw  for  the  additional 
proof,  which  a  visible  appearance  of  Christ  would  have  afford- 
ed of  his  presence.  And  he  has  been  wonderfully  gracious  to 
me  ever  since.  It  is  several  months  since  I  have  been  dis- 
turbed with  any  of  those  dreadful  conflicts,  which  for  so  many 
years  rendered  life  bitterer  than  wormwood  and  gall. 

"  We  have  received  intelligence  of  E.'s  marriage.  I  can 
realize,  more  than  I  once  could,  what  a  severe  trial  it  must  be 
to  you  and  my  father,  to  have  both  daughters  gone — almost 
like  burying  them.  If  father  w^ere  not  a  minister,  and  thus 
fixed  where  he  is,  I  should  send  him  and  you  such  an  invita- 
tion as  Joseph  sent  to  Jacob,  to  come  and  let  us  nurse  and 
nourish  you,  since  you  are  left  so  much  alone," 

"  Dec.  16,  1817.  This  being  the  anniversary  of  my  ordi- 
nation, determined  to  spend  it  in  fasting  and  prayer.  Had 
little  courage  to  attempt  it,  on  account  of  bodily  infirmities, 
and  repeated  vain  attempts ;  but  God  was  gracious  to  me,  and 
enabled  me  to  go  through  with  it.     Had,  for  a  long  time,  a 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  32X 

melting,  heart-broken  frame  at  the  feet  of  Christ,  weeping 
aloud,  and  obtained  a  full  and  sweet  assurance  of  pardon. 
Never  before  enjoyed  such  a  sense  of  his  love,  or  felt  so  con- 
strained to  love  him,  and  every  thing  that  belonged  to  him, 
especially  his  Word,  which  I  could  not  forbear  kissing,  and 
pressing  to  my  bosom.  Was  perfectly  willing  to  die,  without 
leaving  my  chamber,  if  my  work  here  were  done,  and  God 
saw  best. 

^^  Dec.  18.  Began  to  think,  last  night,  that  I  have  been 
sleeping  all  my  days  ;  and,  this  morning,  felt  sure  of  it.  I 
have  been  idling  and  sleeping,  while  my  flock  have  been  drop- 
ping into  hell.  How  astonishingly  blind  have  I  been,  and 
how  imperceptible  my  religious  progress  !  Prayed  for  my  peo- 
ple with  more  of  a  right  spirit  than  perhaps  ever  before.  Af- 
ter meeting,  had,  for  a  few  moments,  such  a  view  of  God  as 
almost  overwhelmed  me.     Could  not  have  supported  it  long.'* 

''  Oct.  27,  1818. 

*'  In  addition  to  these  favors,  we  have  some  reason  to 

hope,  that  Zion  is  travailing  in  birth  with  souls.  After  a  long 
season,  the  preached  word  begins  again  to  be  blessed  ;  and 
several  have,  within  a  few  days,  been  awakened.  My  health, 
too,  v/hich  for  several  weeks  was  worse  than  ever,  is  now  quite 
as  good  as  usual ;  and  God  has  been  so  gracious  to  me  in  spir- 
itual things,  that  I  thought  he  was  preparing  me  for  L.'s  death. 
Indeed,  it  may  be  so  still ;  but  if  so,  his  will  be  done.  Da- 
vid's charge  to  his  soul,  "  wait  thou  only  upon  God,"  has  of 
late  seemed  peculiarly  precious.  Let  him  take  all  ;  if  he 
leaves  us  himself,  we  still  have  all  and  abound. — I  tell  my 
dear  parents  of  these  mercies,  because  I  know  they  are  in  an- 
swer to  your  prayers  ;  and  because  I  trust  they  will  cause  you 
to  abound  in  thanksgiving  in  my  behalf 
*  *         *  * 

"  Since  I  wrote  the  above,  I  have  seen  three  more  newly 
awakened  ;  and  other  circumstances  appear  encouraging. 
Truly  my  cup  runs  over  with  blessings.  I  can  still  scarcely 
help  thinking,  that  God  is  preparing  me  for  some  severe  trial  ; 
but  if  he  will  grant  me  his  presence,  as  he  does  now,  no  trial 
can  seem  severe.  However,  I  desire  to  rejoice  with  trem-' 
bling.  I  seem  to  know  a  little  what  is  meant  by  fearing  the 
Lord  and  his  goodness.  There  seems  to  be  something  awful 
and  venerable  even  in  the  goodness  of  God,  when  displayed 
towards  creatures  so  desperately  wicked,  so  inexpressibly 
vile  as  we  are.  O,  could  I  now  drop  the  body,  I  could  stand 
and  cry  to  all  eternity,  without  being  weary — God  is  holy,  God 


322  MEMOIR  OF 

is  just,  God  is  good  ;  God  is  wise,  and  faithful,  and  true.  Ei- 
ther of  his  perfections  alone  is  sufficient  to  furnish  matter  for 
an  eternal,  unwearied  song.  How  bright,  how  dazzling,  is 
the  jmre,  unsullied  whiteness  of  Ids  cliaraettr  I  and  how  black, 
how  loathsome,  do  we  appear  in  contrast  with  it !  Could  I  sing 
upon  paper,  I  should  "  break  forth  into  singing ;"  for,  day  and 
night,  I  can  do  nothing  but  sing.  '  Let  the  saints  be  joyful  in 
glory ;  let  them  sing  aloud  upon  their  beds ;  for  the  Lord  shall 
reign  king  for  ever,  and  thy  God,  O  Zion,  throughout  all 
generations.' '' 

i  ''^;)Wn3,  1820. 

*^  I  have  lately  been  very  much  delighted  with  some  ac- 
count of  the  last  years  of  Mr.  Newton.  Nothing  that  I  have 
yet  met  with  seems  to  come  so  near  complete  ripeness  of 
Christian  character,  as  the  views  and  feelings  which  he  ex- 
presses in  his  daily  conversation.  He  seems  to  have  seen  God 
continually  in  every  thing,  to  have  been  wholly  swallowed  up  in 
him,  and  to  have  regarded  him  as  all  in  all.  The  whole  creation 
seemed,  as  it  were,  to  be  annihilated  in  his  view,  and  God  to 
have  taken  its  place.  If  a  miracle  had  been  wrought  before 
me,  to  prove  the  reality  of  religion,  it  could  scarcely  have 
produced  conviction  like  that  which  resulted  from  seeing  re- 
ligion thus  gloriously  exemplified.  After  his  faculties  seemed  to 
be  almost  extinct,  so  that  he  could  not  remember,  in  the  after- 
noon, having  preached  in  the  morning,  faith  and  love  and 
hope  were  as  strong  as  ever.  Indeed,  I  cannot  conceive  of 
nearer  approaches  to  perfection  in  this  world,  than  he  seems  to 
have  made  during  the  last  years  of  his  life.  He  says  that  God 
works  in  his  people  to  will^  first ;  and  afterwards,  to  do ;  and 
thinks  that  Christians  iviU  to  do  good  many  years  before  they 
actually  do  much.  This  is  encouraging.  I  think  God  works 
in  me  to  will ;  but  in  doing,  my  progress  is  small  indeed." 

^'Mmj  11,  1S21. 
"My  dear  Mother, 

*'  111  news  flies  so  fast,  and  becomes  so  much  exaggerated 
in  its  progress,  that  I  should  not  wonder  if  you  were  to  hear  a 
rumor  that  I  am  dying,  if  not  dead.  The  truth  is,  I  have 
been  sick — perhaps  dangerously  so.  About  three  months 
since,  I  began  to  be  troubled  with  a  slight  cough.  It  gradu- 
ally grew  worse,  and  was  attended  with  loss  of  appetite,  pain 
in  the  chest,  difficulty  of  breathing,  daily  accession  of  fever, 
and  spitting  of  blood.  It  is  nearly  a  month  since  I  have  been 
obliged  to  give  up  preaching,  and  have  recourse  to  emetics, 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  323 

blistering,  bleeding,  &c.  By  the  blessing  of  God  attending 
these  means,  I  am  now  almost  well  again,  and  hope  to  be  able 
soon  to  resume  my  labors.  I  am,  however,  still  weak,  and  can- 
not write  much ;  but  I  was  fearful  you  would  hear  that  I  am 
worse  than  I  really  am,  and  therefore  thought  it  best  to  write 
a  few  lines." 

"  June  8.  This  is  a  most  melancholy  day  to  me.  It  is  the 
Sabbath  on  which  we  should  have  had  the  communion  ;  but 
we  have  no  one  to  preach  for  us.  My  flock  are  scattered, 
and  I  can  only  look  on  and  groan.  My  health  is  in  such  a 
state,  that  I  can  feel  nothing  but  misery.  However,  this  blow 
seemed  to  touch  me.  I  saio  that  it  was  just,  though  I  can 
scarcely  be  said  to  have  felt  it.  To-morrow  I  expect  to  sail 
for  Charleston,  with  a  view  to  the  recovery  of  my  health  ;  but 
I  go  with  a  heavy  heart.  There  appears  little  prospect  of  its 
proving  beneficial." 

"  Julij  16. 
"  I  am  just  returned  from  Charleston.  My  health  is  much 
improved.  I  had  a  very  pleasant  passage  out ;  but  a  most 
tedious  and  unpleasant  return.  The  captain  who  carried  me 
out  was  as  kind  as  possible.  I  hope  he  has  his  reward.  He 
offered  to  carry  me  to  Europe,  and  bring  me  back,  without  a 
farthing's  expense.  It  would  have  been  gratifying  to  see  Old 
England ;  but  I  could  not  spare  the  time." 

^^  July  16.  O,  how  much  better  is  God  to  me  than  my 
fears,  and  even  than  my  hopes !  how  ready  to  answer  prayer ! 
This  afternoon  he  has  banished  my  fears  and  sorrows,  strength- 
ened my  faith,  revived  my  hopes,  and  encouraged  me  to  go 
on.  Had  a  precious  season  in  visiting  and  praying  with  some 
of  my  people,  and  still  more  so  in  the  evening.  O,  how  wise 
and  good  is  God  !  Now  I  can  see  it  was  best  that  I  should 
not  be  assisted  in  preaching  yesterday  ;  for  it  drove  me,  in 
self-despair,  to  the  throne  of  grace.  Whereas,  had  I  been  as- 
sisted, I  might  have  remained  at  a  distance.  And  I  desire  to 
record  it  to  the  honor  of  God,  and  my  own  shame,  that  I 
never  went  to  him  in  distress,  without  finding  almost  imme- 
diate relief 

'^  July  25.  This  day  I  am  thirty-eight  years  old.  I  had 
intended  to  make  it  a  day  of  family  thanksgiving,  but  my 
weakness  prevented.  Indeed,  ill  health  is  an  obstacle  contin- 
ually in  my  way,  almost  wholly  obstructing  my  usefulness  and 
growth  in  grace.     Half  my  time,  I  am  so  languid  in  body  and 


324  MEMOIR  OF 

mind,  that  I  can  do  nothing  ;  and  the  other  half,  I  am  very  far 
from  being  well.  But  God  has  hitherto  graciously  supported 
me,  so  that,  though  cast  down,  I  am  not  yet  destroyed.  As 
to  resolving  that  I  will  do  better  in  future,  I  have  no  courage 
to  do  it.  The  loss  of  so  many  years  withers  my  strength  and 
courage,  and  dries  up  my  spirits." 

''  Aug.  6,1821. 
"  Since  I  wrote  last,  there  has  been  quite  a  change  in  me. 
Then,  my  health  was  better,  but  my  mind  sick.  Now,  my 
mind  is  comparatively  at  ease,  but  my  health  has  sunk  down 
nearly  to  its  old  standard.  However,  this  state  is  vastly  more 
comfortable  than  the  former,  and  I  desire  to  be  satisfied.  I 
think,  my  dear  mother,  you  may  dismiss  all  anxiety  respecting 
me.  I  am  in  wise  and  good  hands,  and  do  not  suffer  more 
than  is  absolutely  necessary." 

"  Sept.  1.  While  lying  awake  last  night,  enjoyed  most  de- 
lightful views  of  God  as  a  Father.  Felt  that  my  happiness  is 
as  dear  to  him  as  to  myself;  that  he  w^ould  not  willingly  hurt 
one  hair  of  my  head,  nor  let  me  suffer  a  moment's  unnecessa- 
ry pain.  Felt  that  he  was  literally  as  willing  to  give  as  I  could 
be  to  ask.     Seemed,  indeed,  to  have  nothing  to  ask  for." 

In  a  letter,  dated  Sept.  10th,  after  alluding  to  *'  sore  trials," 
and  especially  to  one,  of  several  events  which  had  a  most  mel- 
ancholy and  disastrous  aspect  on  the  religious  prospects  of  the 
church,  he  says,  "  This,  coming  just  when  we  were  expecting 
a  revival,  was  peculiarly  grievous;  but  I  still  hope,  after  God 
has  crushed  us  into  the  dust,  he  will  exalt  us.  He  has  been 
most  wonderfully  gracious  to  me  during  these  trials.  Never 
before  have  I  enjoyed  such  consolations.  It  seems  as  evident 
as  noon-day,  that  the  same  love  which  prompted  the  Saviour  to 
bear  the  curse  for  us,  would  have  led  him  to  bear  all  our  afflic- 
tions for  us,  were  it  not  absolutely  necessary  that  we  should 
suffer  in  our  own  persons.  I  see,  I  feel,  that  he  would  as  soon 
wound  the  apple  of  his  eye,  as  give  one  of  his  people  a  mo- 
ment's needless  pain.  I  care  not  what  trials  may  come,  for 
I  know  that  they  will  be  for  my  good,  and  that  he  will  sup- 
port me." 

At  the  commencement  at  Bowdoin  College,  this  month,  he 
received  the  degree  of  Doctor  in  Divinity ;  but  writes  to  his 
mother — *^  I  beg  you  not  to  address  your  letters  to  me  by  that 
title,  for  I  shall  never  make  use  of  it." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  325 

"  Sept.  19.  Last  night,  while  lying  awake,  had  more  dis- 
tinct apprehensions  of  God's  greatness  than  at  any  previous 
time.  Realized  little  of  any  thing  else  except  simple  great- 
ness ;  and  this,  although  I  seemed  to  have  no  views,  compared 
with  what  might  be,  almost  crushed  me  to  death.  I  could  not 
move  a  limb,  nor  scarcely  breathe.  Saw  how  easily  a  little 
view  of  God  might  destroy  us.  Could  realize  more  than  ever, 
that  a  clear  view  of  God  must  be  hell  to  the  wicked  ;  for  had 
any  sense  of  his  anger  accompanied  this  view  of  his  greatness, 
1  could  not  have  supported  it. 

"  Oct.  11.  Still  my  cup  runs  over  with  blessings.  God 
graciously  continues  to  grant  me  his  presence  when  I  lie  down, 
and  when  I  rise  up ;  though  he  every  day  sees  enough  in  me 
to  justify  him  in  leaving  me  forever." 

"  Oct.  15. 

"  God  continues  to  be  wonderfully  gracious  to  me  in 

spiritual  things.  I  know  not  what  it  means.  I  never  was  so 
happy  for  so  long  a  time  before.  1  suspect  some  grievous  trial 
is  approaching.  Let  it  come,  if  God  pleases.  While  he  is 
with  me,  I  feel  entirely  independent  of  all  circumstances, 
creatures,  and  events.  Yet  creature  comforts  are  pleasant, 
when  we  can  enjoy  God  in  them, 

"  I  fear will  do  the  church  little  good.     At  first, 

it  seemed  to  affect  them  in  a  proper  manner,  but  the  impression 
is  fast  wearing  away.  Whether  God  will  scourge  them  still 
more  severely,  or  whether  he  will  come  and  melt  them  into 
repentance  by  unexpected  displays  of  mercy,  I  do  not  know. 
If  I  could  see  them  made  to  feel  what  a  God  Jehovah  is,  and 
what  a  Saviour  Christ  is,  and  what  a  place  heaven  is  !  But  I 
do  not.  Still,  when  I  look  at  God  in  Christ,  and  see  how  good, 
how  gracious,  how  condescending,  how  powerful  he  is,  I  am 
compelled,  in  spite  of  myself,  to  hope,  and  almost  to  feel  sure, 
that  I  shall,  sooner  or  later,  see  a  revival  of  religion  her^  It 
may  be,  however,  that  this  bright  day  is  designed  only  to  pre- 
pare me  for  as  dark  a  night.  But  I  desire  to  do  present  duty, 
to  enjoy,  with  humble  gratitude,  present  happiness,  and  let  to- 
morrow take  thought  for  itself" 

''Nov,  25. 

"  A  young  man,  member  of  our  church,  is  just  settled, 

and  a  revival  has  commenced.  About  fifty  are  awakened,  and 
the  work  is  increasing.  He  makes  the  fourth  member  of  our 
church,  who  has  been  settled  since  I  came  here."  [Dr.  Pay- 
son  superintended  the  preparation  of  several  young  men  for  the 
ministry.] 

28 


326  MEMOIR  OF 

''Feb,  3,  1822. 

"  If  my  letter  takes  its  complexion  from  my  feelings, 

it  will  appear  gloomy  indeed.  Since  I  wrote  last,  it  has  been  a 
season  of  trial  with  me.  E.  has  had  a  terrible  abscess,  which 
we  feared  would  prove  too  much  for  her  slender  constitution. 
We  were  almost  worn  out  with  watching;  and,  just  as  she  be- 
gan to  amend,  I  was  seized  with  a  violent  ague  in  my  face, 
which  gave  me  incessant  anguish  for  six  days  and  nights  to- 
gether, and  deprived  me  almost  entirely  of  sleep.  Three 
nights,  I  did  not  once  close  my  eyes.  When  almost  distract- 
ed with  pain  and  loss  of  sleep,  Satan  was  let  loose  upon  me, 
to  buffet  me,  and,  I  verily  thought,  would  have  driven  me  to 
desperation  and  madness.  Nor  is  my  situation  now  much  bet- 
ter. The  fact  is,  my  nervous  system,  at  all  times  weak,  has 
been  so  shattered  by  pain,  and  watching,  and  strong  opiates, 
which  gave  no  relief,  that  I  am  sunk  in  gloom  and  desponden- 
cy, and  can  only  write  bitter  things  against  myself  Surely 
no  one  suffers  so  much  unprofitable  misery  as  I  do.  I  call  it 
unprofitable,  because  it  is  of  such  a  nature  that  I  do  not  see 
how  it  possibly  can  produce  any  good  effect.  It  only  weak- 
ens, dispirits,  and  discourages  me. 

*'  We  have  had  a  few  instances  of  conviction,  and  at  least 
one  of  conversion,  since  I  wrote  last;  and  the  church,  I  hope, 
is  gaining  ground.  You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  eight  or  ten 
are  awakened  in  Gorham." 

'•  Feb.  5. 

"  I  can  now  write  in  a  less  dismal  strain.  I  am  not  happy, 
but  I  am  less  wretched.  I  feel,  that  while  such  a  creature  as 
I  am  is  out  of  hell,  I  have  great  reason  for  thankfulness.  But 
my  flesh  trembles,  and  my  blood  almost  runs  cold,  when  I  look 
back  upon  what  I  have  suffered.  Certainly,  a  very  large  pro- 
portion of  my  path  lies  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death.  Bishop  Hall  says — *  None  out  of  hell  have  suffered  so 
much  as  some  of  God's  children  ;'  and  I  believe  it.  I  should 
not,  however,  much  regard  my  sufferings,  if  they  were  sanc- 
tified." 

"  Feb.  19. 

"  You  will  be  glad,  my  dear  mother,  to  hear  that  the  man 
who  had  the  legion  is  sitting  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  in  his  right 
mind.  I  had  obtained  some  relief,  when  I  wrote  you  last,  but 
it  proved  of  short  continuance ;  the  clouds  returned  after  the 
rain,  and  I  was  again  in  the  horrible  pit  and  miry  clay,  and 
there  remained  till  the  next  Sabbath.  But  now,  1  trust,  the 
devil  is  cast  out ;  though,  as  he  departed  from  our  Saviour  only 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  327 

for  a  season,  I  know  not  how  soon  he  may  return.  You  know 
Mr.  Newton  thinks,  that,  comparatively  speaking,  he  fights  with 
neither  small  nor  great,  except  with  ministers.  I  know  not 
how  this  may  be ;  but  if  he  torments  others  as  he  does  me,  I 
am  sure  I  pity  them.  I  am  now  so  worn  out  with  suffering 
and  conflict,  that  I  seem  incapable  of  enjoyment ;  but  I  feel 
quiet  and  peaceful,  and  that  is  a  great  mercy. 

*'  The  symptoms  of  a  revival  increase  among  us.  Perhaps 
a  dozen  have  been  awakened,  and  three  have  obtained  hope, 
since  I  wrote  last.  I  was  sent  for  to-day,  to  see  a  man  ninety- 
two  years  old,  who,  after  a  long  life  of  sin,  is  awakened  in  his 
old  age.  His  situation,  on  the  whole,  seems  encouraging, 
though  he  is  nearly  blind  and  deaf" 

"  Feb.  26. 

*^  The  revival  has  been  advancing,  and  there  now  seems  to 
be  every  reason  to  hope,  that  God  has  begun  a  great  work 
among  us.  I  would  not  be  too  sanguine,  but  things  look  more 
favorable  than  they  have  for  seven  or  eight  years.  Every  day, 
I  have  two,  and  three,  and  four  inquirers  to  see  me,  and  their 
convictions  are  very  deep  and  pungent.  Three  have  just  ob- 
tained hope. 

"  I  rejoice  the  more  in  this  work,  because  it  enables  me  to 
stop  the  mouth  of  my  old  adversary,  and  to  prove  to  his  face 
that  he  is  a  liar.  I  could  not  doubt  that  I  had  been  enabled 
to  pray  for  a  revival  these  many  years.  Nor  could  I  persuade 
myself,  that  Christ  had  not  promised  it  to  me.  The  essence 
of  a  promise  consists  in  voluntarily  exciting  expectation  of  some 
benefit.  In  this  sense,  a  revival  had  often  been  promised  to 
me.  And  when  it  was  not  granted ;  when,  one  time  after 
another,  promising  appearances  died  away ;  and  especially, 
when  I  was  left  to  such  exercises  as  rendered  it  impossible  that 
I  should  ever  be  favored  with  a  revival, — Satan  had  a  fine  op- 
pprtunity  to  work  upon  my  unbelief,  and  to  ask.  Where  is 
your  God  ?  what  do  you  get  by  praying  to  him  ?  and  where  is 
the  revival  which  he  has  been  so  long  encouraging  you  to  ex- 
pect, and  to  pray  for  ?  Now,  I  can  answer  these  questions  tri- 
umphantly, and  put  the  lying  tongue  to  silence.  But  the  work 
is  all  God's ;  and  I  stand  and  look  on  to  see  him  work  ;  and 
this  is  favor  enough,  and  infinitely  more  than  I  deserve. 

"  You  spoke  in  your  last  of  poor .     Rich,  you  would 

call  him  now,  if  you  could  see  him.  He  has  made  more  prog- 
ress in  religion  since ,  than  he  would  in  twenty  years  of 

ordinary  advancement.  I  feel  like  a  child  when  talking  with 
him.     Truly  God's  ways  are  not  like  ours. — Meanwhile  poor 


328  MEMOIR  OF 

brother  Rand,  who  is  not  half  so  undeserving  of  a  revival  as 
I  am,  is  laid  aside,  just  as  soon  as  favorable  symptoms  begin  to 
appear.     His  physicians  speak  very  discouragingly." 

"  March  7.  Preached  in  the  evening  to  the  largest  assem- 
bly that  I  had  ever  addressed  at  a  Thursday  lecture.  Came 
home  encouraged,  and  rejoicing  in  God.  The  work  is  his — I 
am  nothing,  and  love  to  be  nothing.  Dare  not  promise  to 
serve  God  more  faithfully.  However  extensive  a  revival  he 
may  send,  I  shall  again  be  stupid  and  ungrateful,  unless  he 
prevent." 

"  March  17. 
^'  The  revival  goes  on.  Fifteen,  we  hope,  are  converted ; 
and  four  times  that  number  under  deep  impressions.  But  in 
the  midst  of  it  I  am  laid  aside.  My  lungs  have  been  failing 
for  several  weeks,  and  I  can  preach  no  longer.  After  my  last 
Thursday  lecture,  I  had  a  strange  turn.  Every  body  thought 
I  was  dying.  It  was  occasioned  by  an  inability  in  the  heart, 
to  free  itself  from  the  blood  which  poured  in  upon  it.  How- 
ever, the  doctor  came,  and  took  a  large  quantity  of  blood,  which 
relieved  me.  But  I  am  just  as  I  was  last  spring,  and,  unless 
God  interposes  to  help  me,  shall  be  unable  to  preach  for  weeks. 
You  may  well  suppose  that  this  is  a  trying  dispensation ;  but  so 
far  I  am  kept  quiet  under  it.  I  feel  that  it  is  not  only  just, 
but  wise  and  kind.  Poor  brother  Rand  is  in  the  same  situa- 
tion. The  revival  among  his  people  increases,  but  he  can  do 
nothing.     I  wish  P.  was  here ;  we  both  need  him." 

''  May  20,  1823. 
— — ''  Caesar,  speaking  of  one  of  his  many  battles  which 
was  severely  contested,  observed  that,  on  former  occasions,  he 
had  fought  for  victory,  but  then  he  fought  for  life.  Even  so  it 
is  with  me.  Once  I  fought  for  victory,  and  no  ordinary  victo- 
ry would  satisfy  me ;  but  my  strength,  and  courage,  and  ambi- 
tion, are  now  so  crushed,  that  I  fight  merely  for  life,  and  I  am 
scarcely  able  to  secure  even  that.  Still  I  hope  for  victory  ul- 
timately. I  have  just  finished  a  sermon  on  Hezekiah's  peti- 
tion— "  O  Lord,  I  am  oppressed ;  undertake  for  me."  It  has 
given  me  some  comfort ;  it  ought  to  give  me  more.  Indeed, 
if  we  properly  considered  who  Christ  is,  and  what  he  has  un- 
dertaken to  do  for  us,  we  should  never  need  consolation,  but 
might,  like  St.  Paul,  though  sorrowful,  be  always  rejoicing  ; 
and  say  with  him — "  Blessed  be  God,  who  hath  blessed  us  with 
oil  spiritual  blessings  in  heavenly  things  in  Christ  Jesus." — I 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  329 

have  prepared  another  sermon  from  a  succeeding  passage  in 
the  same  chapter, — "  Thou  hast,  in  love  to  my  soul,  delivered 
it  from  the  pit  of  corruption."  The  words  "  delivered  it"  are 
not  in  the  original ;  and,  as  father  Henry  observes,  the  pas- 
sage may  be  read, — *  Thou  hast  loved  my  soul  from  the  pit 
of  corruption  ;  thou  hast  loved  my  soul  when  it  was  in  the  pit 
of  corruption,  and  thou  hast  loved  it  out  of  the  pit  of  corrup- 
tion ;  not  merely  taken  it  out,  and  redeemed  it  out,  but  loved 
it  out." 

"May  2b. 

"  My  sermon  on  Christ's  undertaking  for  us  does  me  more 
and  more  good.  I  wish  I  could  impart  to  you  some  of  the 
comfort  which  it  gives  me.  I  wish  to  get  away  from  frames 
and  feelings,  and  live  continually  on  the  precious  truth, — 
^  Christ  has  undertaken  for  me.'  He  is  able,  he  is  faithful,  he 
will  keep  what  he  has  undertaken  to  keep,  he  will  do  all  he 
has  undertaken  to  do. — Another  passage  has  been  very  sweet 
to  me  this  morning,  and  I  think  I  shall  preach  upon  it  next 
Sabbath  : — '  He  hath  made  us  accepted  in  the  Beloved.'  To 
be  accepted  of  God,  to  be  accepted  in  his  beloved  Son — what 
an  honor  !  what  a  privilege  !  Well  may  it  be  said,  to  every 
one  who  enjoys  it,  "  Go  thy  way,  eat  thy  bread  with  joy,  and 
drink  thy  wine  with  a  merry  heart ;  for  God  now  accepteth  thy 
works." 

*'  Our  church  began,  last  winter,  to  employ  a  domestic  mis- 
sionary. They  sent  him  to  a  town  which  has  long  been  with- 
out a  minister,  and  where,  just  before,  a  vain  attempt  had  been 
made  to  raise  one  hundred  dollars  to  pay  for  preaching.  His 
labors  produced  such  effect,  that  they  have  now  raised  a  per- 
manent fund,  which  will  support  a  minister  for  ever.  They 
have  also  given  our  missionary  a  unanimous  call  to  settle  with 
them.  We  shall  make  a  similar  experiment  in  another  town, 
as  soon  as  we  can  find  a  suitable  missionary.  How  much  is 
money  worth  at  such  a  time  as  this !" 

Dr.  Payson  describes  a  species  of  trial,  to  which  he  was 
twice  subjected,  that  will,  probably,  at  the  first  glance,  sur- 
prise those  who  were  acquainted  with  his  strong  confidence  in 
revelation,  and  his  rich  experience  in  the  consolations  of  reli- 
gion. It  shows  most  vividly  the  awful  malice  of  the  "  accuser 
of  the  brethren,"  whose  power  to  distress  Christians,  as  well 
as  his  agency  among  "the  children  of  disobedience,"  is  great- 
ly underrated  at  the  ^present  day;  and  even  his  existence  is 
extensively  doubted.  Against  the  servant  of  God,  who  was 
making  such  inroads  upon  his  kingdom,  he  seems  to  have  di- 
28* 


330  MEMOIR  OF 

rected  all  his  "fiery  darts."     They  gave  temporary  pain,  but 
inflicted  no  mortal  wound.     The  adversary  was  foiled. 

''Dec.  5,  1S23. 
-"  I  have  been  sick,  and  laid  by  from  preaching  on 


thanksgiving  day  and  two  Sabbaths,  but  am  now  able  to  re- 
sume my  labors.  But  O  the  temptations  which  have  harass- 
ed me  for  the  last  three  months  !  I  have  met  with  nothing 
like  them  in  books.  I  dare  not  mention  them  to  any  mortal, 
lest  they  should  trouble  him  as  they  have  troubled  me  ;  but, 
should  I  become  an  apostate,  and  write  against  religion,  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  could  bring  forward  objections  which  would 
shake  the  faith  of  all  the  Christians  in  the  world.  What  I 
marvel  at  is,  that  the  arch  deceiver  has  never  been  permitted 
to  suggest  them  to  some  of  his  scribes,  and  have  them  publish- 
ed. They  would,  or  I  am  much  mistaken,  make  fearful  work 
with  Christians  for  a  time,  though  God  would,  doubtless,  ena- 
ble them  to  overcome  in  the  end.  It  seems  to  me,  that  my 
state  has  been  far  worse  than  that  of  Mansoul  was  when  Di- 
abolus  and  his  legions  broke  into  the  town.  They  could  not 
get  into  the  castle,  the  heart ;  but  my  castle  was  full  of  them. 
But  do  not  be  troubled  for  me  ;  I  am  now  better.  Let  me, 
then,  try  to  comfort  my  mother." 

The  other  passage,  depicting  a  similar  conflict,  was  written 
about  a  year  and  a  half  after  the  above  : — 

"  It  seems  to  me,  that  those  who  die  young,  like  Brainerd 
and  Marty n,  know  almost  nothing  of  the  difficulty  of  perse- 
vering in  the  Christian  race.  My  difficulties  increase  every 
year.  There  is  one  trial  which  you  cannot  know  experiment- 
ally. It  is  that  of  being  obliged  to  preach  to  others,  when  one 
doubts  of  every  thing,  and  can  scarcely  believe  that  there  is  a 
God.  All  the  atheistical,  deistical,  and  heretical  objections, 
which  I  meet  with  in  books,  are  childish  babblings,  compared 
with  those  which  Satan  suggests,  and  which  he  urges  upon 
the  mind  with  a  force  which  seems  irresistible.  Yet  I  am 
often  obliged  to  write  sermons,  and  to  preach,  when  these  ob- 
jections beat  upon  me  like  a  whirlwind,  and  almost  distract 
me. — When  he  asks,  as  he  does  continually  ask.  What  have 
you  gained  by  all  your  prayers  ?  I  know  not  what  to  reply. 
However,  pray  I  must,  and,  God  assisting  me,  pray  I  will.  The 
way  is  indeed  difficult,  but  I  can  devise  no  other  which  is  not 
more  so.  There  is  no  one  to  whom  I  can  go,  if  I  forsake 
Christ." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  331 

As  to  the  influence  of  these  last  quoted  passages  on  the 
reader's  mind,  they  are  adapted,  not  to  raise  doubts  respecting 
the  genuineness  and  authenticity  of  revelation,  but  to  strength- 
en his  confidence  in  it,  as  the  sure  word  of  God,  which  endur^ 
eth  forever.  The  obvious  and  legitimate  inference  from  them 
is,  that  the  Bible  can  sustain,  uninjured,  attacks  and  objec- 
tions, as  much  more  formidable  than  any  which  have  been 
directed  against  it  by  the  mightiest  infidels,  as  their  objections 
are  superior  to  the  merest  "  childish  babblings."  If  such  tre- 
mendous volleys,  from  the  enemy's  battery,  could  not  rend 
away  the  foundations  of  Dr.  Payson's  faith,  however  they 
might  distress  him  for  a  time,  that  faith  surely  rested  on  a 
basis  as  firm  as  the  everlasting  hills,  which  all  the  powers  of 
earth  and  hell  will  for  ever  assail  in  vain.  An  opposite  con- 
clusion would  be  as  illogical  and  preposterous  as  it  is  false  in 
itself  No  reasonable  man  can  adduce  Dr.  Payson's  tempta- 
tions to  discredit  religion  ;  for  they  are  vanquished  tempta- 
tions. Be  it  remembered,  that  he  overcame  them  all.  How- 
ever weighty  or  numerous  the  objections  to  revealed  religion, 
the  evidences  vastly  preponderate. 

We  have  ascribed  these  '^doubts  and  temptations"  to  Sa- 
tan, without  undertaking  to  define  the  manner  or  degree  of 
his  agency  on  the  human  mind,  or  to  distinguish  his  sugges- 
tions from  man's  voluntary  acts.  If  we  have  indicated  their 
true  source,  it  should  not  surprise  us  that  these  doubts  respect 
what  is  fundamental  in  religion.  Dr.  Payson's  language,  on 
another  occasion,  is  applicable  to  this  case  : — *^  Satan  will  not 
disturb  a  false  peace,  because  it  is  a  peace  of  which  he  is  the 
author."  For  the  same  reason,  he  would  not  disturb  a  man's 
speculative  belief  in  a  religion  fundamentally  erroneous  ;  for 
this  would  be  '  dividing  against  himself,'  and  undermining  his 
own  kingdom. 

It  seems,  from  numerous  facts,  which  might  be  adduced,  to 
have  been  in  the  counsels  of  God,  that,  among  those  whom 
he  designed  to  be  distinguished  instruments  in  defending  and 
promoting  the  pure  religion  of  the  Bible,  no  inconsiderable 
number  should  be  subjected  to  the  severest  trials,  in  regard  to 
its  claims  to  human  confidence.  That  laborious  and  success- 
ful servant  of  God,  Richard  Baxter,  underwent  this  test. 
John  Bunyan  had  long  and  distressing  trials  of  this  kind  : — 
"Whole  floods  of  blasphemies,"  he  tells  us,  "  both  against  God, 
Christ,  and  the  Scriptures,  were  poured  in  upon  his  spirit,  to 
his  great  confusion  and  astonishment.  These  blasphemous 
thoughts  stirred  up  questions  in  him  against  the  very  being  of 
God,  and  of  his  only  beloved  Son  ;  as  whether  there  were,  in 


332  MEMOIR  OF 

truth,  a  God  or  Christ,  and  whether  the  Holy  Scriptures  were 
not  rather  a  fable  and  cunning  story,  than  the  holy  and  pure 
word  of  God."  Even  his  pilgrim,  whose  experience  was  in- 
tended to  represent  that  of  ordinary  Christians,  and  to  whose 
fidelity,  in  its  grand  outlines  and  general  character,  every 
evangelical  Christian  can  testify,  did  not  reach  the  celestial 
city  without  encountering  atheistical  doubts  on  his  way  thither. 
References  of  this  kind  might  be  multiplied  ;  but  what  do 
they  prove  ?  Not  that  the  Scriptures  are  false,  and  religion  a 
delusion,  but  that  they  can  survive,  and  shine  the  brighter, 
and  stand  the  firmer,  notwithstanding  the  most  malignant  and 
desperate  assaults  of  their  most  powerful  foes.  By  these  tri-, 
als,  considered  as  a  dispensation  of  God,  many  valuable  ends 
are  answered.  The  champion  of  the  cross,  who  is  destined 
to  make  wide  encroachments  on  the  kingdom  of  Satan,  must 
not  be  ''  ignorant  of  his  devices."  He  must  see  and  know 
the  enemies  to  be  resisted,  in  order  to  wield  his  spiritual 
weapons  with  skill  and  effect.  When  Luther  took  the  "cowl 
and  tonsure,"  he  little  knew  for  what  purpose  ;  and  human 
foresight  would  never  have  predicted  the  consequences  which 
grew  out  of  his  seclusion.  But  it  was  in  a  monastery  that  he 
acquired  that  knowledge  and  experience,  which  fitted  him  for 
the  peculiar  part  which  he  was  subsequently  to  act,  in  demol- 
ishing monastic  instituti'ons,  and  in  kindling  and  spreading 
the  light  of  the  glorious  reformation.  His  own  testimony  rec- 
ognises, what  every  Christian  will  readily  admit,  that  the 
design  of  God,  in  permitting  him  to  become  a  monk,  was  very 
different  from  that  of  the  adversary  in  tempting  him  to  be 
one: — "Of  the  propriety  of  my  conduct  at  that  time,  my 
opinion  has  certainly  undergone  a  change  :  but  God,  by  his 
infinite  wisdom  and  mercy,  has  been  pleased  to  produce  great 
good  out  of  evil.  Satan  seems  to  have  anticipated  in  me, 
from  my  infancy,  some  of  those  qualities  which  have  since 
appeared  ;  and,  to  prevent  the  progress  of  the  cause  in  which 
I  have  been  instrumental,  he  affected  my  mind  to  such  a 
degree  as  to  make  me  often  wonder  whether  I  was  the  only 
creature  whom  he  tormented.  Now,  however,  I  perceive  that 
God  directed  that  I  should  acquire,  by  personal  experience,  a 
knowledge  of  the  constitution  of  universities  and  monasteries, 
that  my  opponents  might  have  no  handle  to  boast  that  I  pre- 
tended to  condemn  things  of  which  I  was  ignorant.  It  was 
ordained,  therefore,  that  I  should  pass  part  of  my  life  in  a 
monastery." 

But,  while  it  is  a  grand  object  with  that  "  adversary,  who 
goeth  about  as  a  roaring  lion,  seeking  whom  he  may  devour," 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  333 

to  weaken,  and,  if  possible,  to  destroy,  the  faith  of  God's  peo- 
ple in  the  fundamental  articles  of  religion,  and  to  shake  their 
hope  of  a  personal  interest  in  its  blessings,  there  is  something 
in  man  himself  which  makes  him  anxious  on  these  points,  and 
predisposes  him  to  tremble,  lest  they  should  not  abide  the  test. 
And  no  wonder ;  for  they  concern  his  eternal  w^ell-being. 
Where  he  regards  his  all  as  depending,  it  is  natural  that  he 
should  feel  his  ground,  and  look  well  to  his  foundation.  If  he 
fail  here,  he  suffers  a  total  failure.  Hence  we  often  see  per- 
sons more  confident  respecting  the  circumstantials  of  religion, 
than  they  are  concerning  its  essentials.  Anecdotes  exhibiting 
this  quality  will  occur  to  every  one  on  reflection. 

The  doubts  which,  during  his  early  investigation  of  theolog- 
ical subjects.  Dr.  Payson  expressed  respecting  some  points  of 
the  Calvinistic  system,  or  the  doctrines  which  are  usually  thus 
designated,  cannot,  without  manifest  perversion,  be  used  to 
the  prejudice  of  evangelical  truth  ;  for  to  them,  also,  the  rea- 
soning above  most  forcibly  applies.  In  the  resolution  of 
these  doubts,  in  such  a  mind  as  his,  there  is  a  testimony  to 
the  truth  of  the  doctrines  of  grace  too  valuable  to  be  lost. 
Every  shock  which  they  receive  leaves  them  more  firmly  es- 
tabhshed.  By  the  same  means,  they  acquired  a  hold  on  his 
own  souly  which  his  powerful  and  exasperated  foe  could  not 
disengage,  though  the  effort  sunk  him  *^  in  heaviness  for  a  sea- 
son, through  the  manifold  temptations''  which  accompanied  it» 
Of  the  doctrines  of  grace,^  no  man  was  ever  more  "  fully  per« 
suaded  in  his  own  mind"  than  Dr.  Payson,  and  the  influence 
of  this  persuasion  was  most  powerful,  in  wresting  from  "  the 
god  of  this  world"  some  of  his  most  valued  subjects.  It  was 
the  means  of  converting,  from  a  lax  theology  and  consequent 
indifference  to  eternal  concerns,  to  evangelical  faith  and  obe- 
dience, some  who  were  distinguished  for  their  standing  and 
their  wealth.  The  enemy  of  all  righteousness  saw  no  way  to 
shake  his  firmness  in  these  doctrines,  except  by  an  attempt  to 
discredit  that  revelation  of  God,  in  which  they  are  found. 
Hence,  probably,  the  peculiar  trials  which  have  occasioned 
these  remarks. 

The  reader,  however,  is  not  to  infer,  that  the  doubts  and 
temptations  above  recorded  are  any  necessary  part  of  religion ; 
or,  indeed,  that  they  are  among  the  healthful  operations  of 
piety.  This  is  far  from  being  the  case.  They  have  their  oc- 
casion, partly,  at  least,  in  bodily  and  even  spiritual  disease ; 
under  the  influence  of  which  the  subjects  of  them  are  pecu- 
liarly liable  to  the  vexatious  and  blasphemous  assaults  of  Satan. 
And  doubtless  they  should  be  viewed  as  chastisements,  as  well 


334  MEMOIR  OF 

as  grievous  calamities  ;  and  if  a  man  could  know  all  that  was 
in  his  heart,  he  might  know  to  what  sin  or  sinful  tendency  the 
punishment  was  suited.  Bunyan,  after  having  been  delivered 
from  these  horrid  exercises,  which  he  endured  for  a  long  time, 
attributed  them  chiefly  to  two  causes  :  *  That,  after  being 
freed  from  one  temptation,  he  did  not  still  pray  to  God  to  keep 
him  from  the  temptation  that  was  to  come ;'  and  '  That  he  had 
tempted  God,  not  by  any  outward  act,  but  by  secretly  saying 
in  his  heart.  Lord,  if  now  thou  wilt  remove  this  sad  affliction, 
.  .  .  then  shall  I  know  that  thou  canst  discern  the  most  secret 
thoughts  of  the  heart.'  The  affliction  was  suddenly  removed  ; 
but,  for  his  presumption,  a  sting  was  left  in  his  conscience  more 
intolerable  than  any  bodily  anguish.  So  far  as  these  trials  were 
visited  upon  Dr.  Payson  as  a  chastisement,  it  must  have  been 
for  sins  of  the  heart ;  for  outwardly  he  was  remarkably  cir- 
cumspect. The  external  act  which  cost  him  more  anguish 
than  any  other  act  of  his  life,  and  which  is  dwelt  upon  more 
circumstantially  than  any  other  in  his  journal,  was  one,  in  it- 
self of  the  most  trifling  and  indifferent  character,  too  insignifi- 
cant to  be  specified  ;  and  yet  was  so  associated  in  his  mind 
with  other  circumstances,  as  to  distress  him  beyond  measure, 
and  excite  his  fears  that  he  was  completely  given  over  into  the 
hands  of  the  enemy.  Still  the  reasonings  which  he  applies  to 
the  case,  even  at  the  time,  are  strikingly  apposite,  scriptural, 
and  rational,  and  ought  to  have  brought  him  complete  relief 
That  they  did  not,  shows  rather  the  strength  of  his  malady, 
than  the  degree  of  his  guilt. 

Let  it  then  be  fixed  in  the  mind,  that  these  horrible  exer- 
cises are  not  to  be  coveted  as  a  necessary  part  of  Christian  ex- 
perience. Far  otherwise  ;  it  should  be  our  daily  prayer  to  be 
kept  from  such  temptations.  As  a  defence  against  them,  we 
should  tintst  in  God  at  all  times,  and  pour  out  our  hearts  be- 
fore him.  We  should  strive  to  banish  such  suggestions  from 
the  mind,  when  they  enter  it,  and  to  hold  up  the  shield  of  faith 
as  a  defence  against  these  fiery  darts  of  the  devil,  when  we 
see  them  approaching.  "  Tell  me,"  says  Baxter,  "  what  you 
would  do,  if  you  heard  a  scold  in  the  street  reviling  you,  or 
heard  an  atheist  there  talk  against  God  :  would  you  stand  still 
to  hear  them,  or  would  you  talk  it  out  again  with  them,  or 
rather  go  from  them,  and  disdain  to  hear  them,  or  debate  the 
case  with  such  as  they  ?  Do  you,  in  your  case,  when  Satan 
casts  in  ugly,  or  despairing,  or  murmuring  thoughts,  go  away 
from  them  to  some  other  thoughts  or  business.  ...  To  be 
tempted,  is  common  to  the  best.  Yet  be  not  too  much  trou- 
bled at  the  temptation ;  for  trouble  of  mind  doth  keep  the  evil 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  335 

matter  in  your  memory,  and  so  increase  it,  as  the  pain  of  a 
sore  draws  the  blood  and  spirits  to  the  place.  And  this  is  the 
design  of  Satan,  to  give  you  troubling  thoughts,  and  then  to 
cause  more,  by  being  troubled  at  those  ;  and  so,  for  one  thought 
and  trouble,  to  cause  another,  and  that  another,  and  so  on." 

That  physical  constitution  and  temperament  which  qualify 
men  to  exert  an  uncommon  influence  over  their  fellow  men, 
to  excite  their  sympathies,  to  touch  the  springs  of  action,  and 
call  their  feelings  into  vigorous  exercise ;  to  rouse,  impel  and 
guide  a  whole  community,  and  to  leave  an  example  which 
shall  act  with  impressive  energy  upon  posterity,  seem  also  to 
have  been  connected,  in  many  eminent  instances,  with  a  pre- 
disposition to  melancholy  and  depression.  Luther  is  a  distin- 
guished example  of  these  apparently  opposite  qualities.  "  He, 
who  was  so  bold  in  asserting  the  cause  of  Christianity,  and  so 
fearless  of  personal  danger  in  its  promotion,  was  not  unfre- 
quently  sunk  in  despondency,  and  was  doubtful  even  whether 
he  was  a  real  Christian."  Thus  God  hath  set  one  thing  over 
against  the  other,  that  all  may  feel  their  dependence,  and  that 
no  flesh  might  glory  in  his  presence. 

When  Christ  said  to  Peter,  "  Satan  hath  desired  to  have  thee, 
that  he  may  sift  thee  as  wheat,"  he  immediately  after  indicat- 
ed his  own  purpose,  in  permitting  that  disciple  to  fall,  by  the 
injunction,  "  When  thou  art  converted,  strengthen  thy  breth- 
ren." It  is  perfectly  obvious,  that,  after  his  fall  and  recove- 
ry, he  was,  in  some  respects,  better  qualified  to  edify  the 
church  of  God  than  either  of  his  fellow  disciples,  or  than  he 
could  have  been  himself  without  the  experience  of  that  guilty, 
shameful,  melting,  heart-breaking  process  of  backsliding  and 
recovery.  He  exercised  a  train  of  emotions,  to  which  he  must 
otherwise  have  been  a  stranger,  and  which  had  a  most  impor- 
tant influence  on  his  own  character  and  labors,  as  a  minister 
of  Christ,  as  well  as  on  his  success.  Bunyan  enumerates  sev- 
eral advantages  as  accruing  from  his  torturing,  frightful  temp- 
tations ;  such  as  a  wonderful  sense  of  the  blessing  and  glory 
of  God,  and  of  his  beloved  Son.  The  glory  of  God's  holiness 
did  break  him  to  pieces,  and  the  compassion  of  Christ  did 
break  him  as  on  the  wheel.  The  Scriptures  also  were  won- 
derful things  to  him  ;  he  saw  more  into  the  nature  of  the 
promises  than  ever  before ;  for  while  he  lay  trembling  under 
the  mighty  hand  of  God,  continually  rent  and  torn  by  the 
thundering  of  his  justice,  it  made  him,  with  a  careful  heart 
and  watchful  eye,  turn  over  every  leaf,  and,  with  much  dili- 
gence, mixed  with  much  trembling,  to  consider  every  sentence 
together  with  its  natural  force  and  latitude.     It  cured  him  of 


336  MEMOIR  OF 

putting  oif  the  word  of  promise  when  it  came  into  his  mind. 
He  did  not  look  principally  for  comfort,  though  it  would  have 
been  inexpressibly  welcome,  but  a  word  to  lean  a  weary 
soul  upon,  that  it  may  not  sink  forever.  He  saw  those  heights 
and  depths  in  grace,  and  love,  and  mercy,  which  he  never  saw 
before  ;  and  that,  w^here  guilt  is  most  terrible  and  fierce,  there 
the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ,  when  showed  to  the  soul,  appears 
most  high  and  mighty?  Without  these  deep  and  painful  ex- 
periences, could  he  ever  have  been  so  eminently  successful  in 
guiding  pilgrims  through  the  snares  of  their  difficult  road,  or 
have  set  up  so  many  way-marks  to  keep  them  from  "  the  en- 
chanted ground,"  from  "  doubting  castle,"  and  "  giant  De- 
spair ?"  By  a  similar  discipline  was  Dr.  Payson  prepared  to 
bring  relief  to  the  afflicted  people  of  God,  as  has  been  already 
seen.  Costly  as  was  his  experimental  knowledge,  he  was  a 
thousand  times  repaid  for  it,  by  being  made  the  minister  of 
peace  to  the  worried  and  affi-ighted  sheep  of  Christ's  fold. 
Shall  we  therefore  do  evil  that  good  may  come  ?  God  forbid. 
If  we  are  exempted  from  these  distresses  while  we  are  enabled 
to  give  due  attention  to  the  concerns  of  our  souls,  our  thanks 
to  God  should  abound.     We  now  return  from  this  digression. 

*'  Jan.  1,  1824.  Rose  early,  and  tried  to  pray ;  but  a  weak, 
languid  frame  crushed  me  down.  I  have,  however,  reason  to 
bless  God,  that  he  allows  such  a  wretch  as  I  am  to  serve  him 
at  all.  Groaned  and  struggled  with  my  weakness  before  God. 
— Read  a  number  of  passages  in  my  diary,  especially  what  is 
recorded  under  date  of  Dec.  16,  1815.  Am  glad  I  kept  a 
journal.  I  had  otherwise  forgotten  much  of  what  I  have 
done  against  God,  and  of  what  he  has  done  for  me.  Was  con- 
founded at  what  I  read.  My  words  are  swallowed  up.  My 
life,  my  ministry,  has  been  madness,  madness  !  What  shall  I 
do  ?  where  shall  I  hide  ?  To  sin,  after  I  had  sinned  so  much, 
and  after  I  had  been  forgiven  !  But  I  cannot  write  !  I  cannot 
think  !  And  if  my  sins  appear  so  black  in  my  book,  how  do 
they  appear  in  God's ! 

"  Jan.  29.  Have  had  much  to  be  thankful  for,  and  much 
to  be  ashamed  of,  for  some  days  past.  God  has  been  more 
than  ordinarily  gracious  to  me,  granting  me  liberty  of  access 
to  him  in  prayer,  and  permitting  me  to  be,  in  some  degree, 
useful.  I  have  received  many  tokens  of  warm  affection  from 
his  people,  and  been  assisted  in  my  work.  .  .  .  Have  learned  a 
lesson  which  I  ought  to  have  learned  before.  I  am  religiously 
romantic.  I  am  always  expecting  something  out  of  the  com- 
mon course,  and  planning  what  God  is  going  to  do. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  337 

**  May  15.  Rode  to  G.  to  give  them  a  day's  preaching,  as 
they  are  destitute.  Took  up  a  poor  cripple  by  the  way,  and 
preached  Christ  to  him.  Felt  some  pity  and  love  for  him, 
while  talking.  A  curious  combination  of  circumstances  threw 
him  in  my  way.  Could  not  but  think  how  we  both  should  ad- 
mire the  leadings  of  Providence,  if  he  should  be  converted  in 
consequence  of  what  was  said  to  him. 

"  July  20.  Perplexed  what  to  do.  My  people  wish  me  to 
go  to  Europe.     Tried  to  commit  the  case  to  God. 

"  Oct.  17.  Slept  none  last  night,  and  my  sufferings  were 
great.  My  right  arm  seems  about  to  perish.  Could  say, 
God's  will  be  done. 

"  Nov.  7.  What  I  have  long  feared  is  come  upon  me.  My 
voice  and  my  faculties  are  half  gone  already,  and  what  remains 
is  rapidly  departing. 

"  Nov.  27.  Was  favored  with  a  most  precious  season  in 
prayer.  Had  such  views  of  God  and  Christ !  Lay  and  mourn- 
ed at  his  feet,  till  I  was  exhausted,  and  longed  unutterably  to 
be  more  holy,  and  to  have  others  holy.  O,  what  reason  have 
I  to  bless  God  for  this  ! 

"  Jan.  5,  1825.  At  the  concert  on  Monday,  recommended 
to  the  church  to  imitate  the  Lord's  prayer,  and  always  begin 
their  supplications  with  praying  that  God's  name  may  be  glo- 
rified. Have  derived  much  benefit  from  pursuing  this  prac- 
tice. Made  eleven  visits,  and  felt  thankful  for  having  strength 
to  do  it. 

"  Jan.  31.  Felt  very  happy  and  dead  to  the  world,  all  day. 
Rejoiced  in  God,  and  cared  not  what  he  did  with  me. 

"  Feh.  9.  Had  a  delightful  season  in  prayer.  It  seemed 
as  if  it  was  only  to  ask  and  receive.  Had  nothing  to  ask  for 
myself,  except  that  I  might  be  swallowed  up  in  the  will  of  God. 

'*  Feh.  15,  16.     Much  engaged  in  visiting.     Went  to  the 

utmost  extent  of  my  strength.     Felt  insatiable  desires  for  moce 

holiness." 

*' Boston,  March  21,  1825. 
^^  My  dear  Mother, 

"  I  value  your  letters  much,  and  your  prayers  still  more  ;  and 
sometimes  think  that  your  life  is  preserved,  principally,  to  pray 
for  your  children.  It  will  be  found,  I  doubt  not,  in  the  com- 
ing world,  that  ministers  had  much  less  share  in  the  success 
which  attends  their  labors,  than  is  now  supposed.  It  will  be 
found,  that,  if  they  drew  the  bow,  the  prayers  of  Christians 
pointed  and  guided  the  arrow.  I  preached  last  evening  to  an 
immense  concourse  of  people.  After  the  pews  were  filled, 
seats  were  brought  in,  and  placed  in  all  the  aisles.  So  far  as  I 
29 


338  MEMOIR  OF 

know,  however,  very  little  good  has  been  done  by  my  labors 
here.  But  I  desire  to  leave  it  all  with  God.  I  am  astonished 
and  ashamed  by  the  kindness  with  which  his  people  here  treat 
me.         #         *         *         =i^ 

"  You  express  a  wish  that  my  feelings  were  more  equable. 
I  wish  they  were.  But  I  am  so  completely  wretched  when 
God  withdraws  from  me,  that  the  removal  of  that  wretched- 
ness by  his  return,  renders  me  almost  too  happy. — This  thought 
has  lately  been  of  some  service  to  me.  Every  Christian  ought 
to  love  God  in  proportion  to  what  has  been  forgiven  him.  But 
every  Christian  knows  more  evil  of  himself  than  he  can  know 
of  any  other  human  being.  He  ought,  therefore,  to  feel  as  if 
more  had  been  forgiven  him,  and  as  if  he  were  under  greater 
obligations  to  love  God  than  any  other  human  being ;  as  if  it 
were  worse  for  him  to  sin  against  God  than  it  would  be  for 
any  other." 

"  Portland,  Juhj  27. 

**  I  had  attempted  to  observe  my  birth-day  as  a  day  of 

prayer,  but  apparently  to  no  purpose.  I  was  so  unwell,  that  I 
could  do  nothing.  However,  the  next  day,  the  blessings  which 
I  wished  to  ask  for,  but  could  not,  were  bestowed.  I  need  not 
tell  you  how  sweet,  how  soothing,  how  refreshing,  Christ's  re- 
turning presence  is,  after  long  absence.  Still  I  am  borne 
down  in  such  a  manner  by  ill  health,  that  I  can  but  half  re- 
joice. The  state  of  religion  among  us  helps,  also,  to  crush 
me. — There  never  has  been  so  entire  a  suspension  of  divine 
influences,  since  my  settlement,  as  at  present.  Those  of  the 
church  who  are  most  spiritual,  tell  me  that  they  never  found 
it  so  difficult  to  perform  religious  duties,  as  they  do  now.  In 
fine,  the  church  seems  to  be  on  Bunyan's  enchanted  ground, 
and  many  of  them  are  sleeping  in  some  of  the  arbors  which  he 
mentions.  Whether  they  will  wake  before  death,  seems 
doubtful." 

''Sept.  29. 

"  I  preached  last  Sabbath  on  being  guilty  of  the  blood 

of  souls ;  and  endeavored  to  point  out  some  of  the  ways  in 
which  we  may  incur  this  guilt.  I  have  incurred  but  too  much 
of  it ;  and  it  lies  upon  me  with  a  weight  which  I  know  not  how 
to  bear,  but  which  I  cannot  throw  off.  True,  blood  has  been 
shed  for  us,  which  has  efficacy  to  take  away  the  guilt  of  blood. 
But  though  this  consideration  may  keep  us  from  despair,  it  can- 
not shield  us,  or,  at  least,  cannot  shield  one  whose  guilt  is 
like  mine,  from  the  sufferings  occasioned  by  self-reproach,  and 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  339 

a  wounded  spirit.  I  seldom  think  of  the  time  I  spent  in  B. 
without  a  pang,  the  keenness  of  which  you  cannot  easily  con- 
ceive. It  is  a  painful  thought,  that  we  are  so  long  in  learning 
how  to  live,  that  ere  the  lesson  is  well  learned,  life  is  spent. 
— Another  subject,  on  which  I  have  lately  been  writing,  and 
which  has  assisted  to  increase  my  depression,  was  suggested 
by  the  passage — "  Even  Christ  pleased  not  himself"  If 
any  one,  who  ever  lived  in  this  world,  had  a  right  to  please 
himself,  he  surely  had  such  a  right ;  yet  how  far  was  he  from 
exercising  or  claiming  it !  He  evidently  adopted  and  acted 
upon  the  principle,  that,  as  man,  he  was  not  his  own ;  that 
he  belonged  to  God,  and  to  the  universe,  and  that  he  must  do 
nothing  merely  for  the  sake  of  promoting  his  own  personal 
gratification.  I  contemplate  this  example  with  feelings  similar 
to  those  with  which  a  child,  who  has  just  begun  to  hold  a  pen, 
may  be  supposed  to  look  upon  a  superb  copper-plate,  which  he 
is  required  to  imitate ;  or,  rather,  with  such  feelings  as  one 
might  indulge,  who  had  been  learning  to  write  for  many  years, 
and  yet  found  himself  further  from  resembling  his  copy,  than 
he  was  at  first." 

"  Nov.  4.  Quarterly  fast.  Went  to  meeting  feeling  very 
unwell,  and  found  very  few  assembled.  Was  obliged  to  wait 
half  an  hour  before  there  was  a  sufficient  number  to  sing. 
Was  entirely  overcome  by  discouragement.  Could  not  say  a 
word,  and,  after  struggling  in  vain  with  my  feelings,  was 
obliged  to  state  them  to  the  church,  and  come  away. 

'*  Nov.  9.  Installation  of  a  minister  over  the  Third  Church, 
to-day.  Have  reason  to  be  thankful,  that  I  have  been  carried 
through  this  business  of  separation  so  well,  and  that  affection 
for  those  who  have  left  us  is  rather  increased  than  diminished." 

This  last  date  brings  us  down  to  a  period,  from  which  his 
health  may  be  said  to  have  been  constantly  declining.  The 
progress  of  the  maladies,  which  were  wasting  away  his  frame, 
may  have  been  stayed  for  a  few  days  or  weeks  in  succession, 
after  this ;  but  their  hold  on  him  was  never  more  weakened. 
The  winter  succeeding  was  one  of  infirmity  and  suffering.  He 
continued  to  preach  on  the  Sabbath ;  but  the  exhaustion  con- 
sequent upon  the  exertion,  often  rendered  it  difficult  for  him 
to  reach  his  home,  distant  but  a  few  rods.  So  much  overcome 
was  he,  as  to  be  physically  unable  to  lead  the  devotions  of  his 
own  family  ;  and  his  Sabbath  nights  were  nights  of  restlessness 
and  anguish.  Still,  when  holy  time  again  returned,  he  longed 
for  the  habitation  of  God's  house,  and  again  repeated  his  ef- 
forts, and  with  similar  consequences. 


340  MEMOIR  OF 

Observing  with  alarm  this  prostration  of  his  strength,  his 
people,  in  the  spring  of  1826,  resolved  upon  an  alteration  of 
their  meeting-house,  with  a  view  to  his  relief  The  ceiling 
was  brought  down  and  arched,  and  the  floor  inclined  towards 
the  pulpit,  by  which  changes  more  than  one  third  of  the  space 
to  be  filled  by  the  speaker's  voice  was  excluded,  and  the  diffi- 
culty of  filling  it  diminished  in  a  still  greater  proportion.  It 
was  while  this  alteration  was  in  progress,  that  he  made  his  cir- 
cuitous and  last  journey  to  the  Springs,  which  has  already  been 
mentioned. 

On  arriving  there,  he  said  to  Mr.  Whelpley,  in  allusion  to 
his  health — '  I  am  in  pursuit  of  a  good  which  is  constantly 
flying  before  me,  and  which,  I  apprehend,  will  for  ever  elude 
my  grasp.' — ^  The  incessant  and  unremitted  labor  of  years/ 
adds  Mr.  W.,  *  seemed  to  have  left  him  but  a  mere  wreck  of 
heing^  which  he  longed  to  be  rid  of  to  serve  God  in  a  region 
of  perfect  health  and  boundless  activity.  He  had  little  expec- 
tation of  recovering  his  health,  and  several  times  remarked, 
that,  if  it  was  the  will  of  God  to  take  him  away  speedily,  it 
was  no  matter  how  soon  he  departed.  The  idea  of  wearing 
out  his  days  in  a  state  of  inactivity  and  consequent  depression, 
was  distressing  to  him,  and  made  him  deeply  solicitous  to  have 
the  question  of  life  and  death  fully  settled.  Sometimes,  said 
he,  when  I  retire  to  bed,  I  should  be  happy  to  have  it  the  last 
night  of  my  life.  With  Job  he  might  say — "  I  am  made  to 
possess  months  of  vanity,  and  wearisome  nights  are  appointed 
unto  me.  When  I  lie  down,  I  say.  When  shall  I  arise,  and  the 
night  be  gone?  I  am  full  of  tossings  to  and  fro  unto  the 
dawning  of  the  day  ! — When  I  say.  My  bed  shall  comfort  me, 
and  my  couch  shall  ease  my  complaint ;  then  thou  scarest  me 
with  dreams,  and  terrifiest  me  with  night  visions ;  so  that  my 
soul  chooseth  strangling  and  death  rather  than  life. — I  loathe 
it ;  I  would  not  live  alway."  ' 

Mr.  Whelpley  imagined — and  in  this  he  was  unquestionably 
correct— that  the  sufferings  of  Dr.  Pay  son  were  greater  than 
any  one  knew  or  suspected ;  and  he  adds,  *they  were  endured, 
for  the  most,  in  silence.  At  midnight,  he  would  arise  and  walk 
his  room,  singing  some  plaintive  air.  At  first,  I  knew  not  what 
to  make  of  the  unwonted  and  mournful  sounds,  which  broke  in 
upon  my  slumbers  ;  and  often,  as  the  sound  softly  died  away, 
my  soul  was  filled  with  sadness. — He  complained  much  of  te 
head.  In  one  conversation,  he  dwelt  particularly  on  the  causes 
which  had  operated  to  undermine  and  destroy  his  health. — 
Among  them  was  his  great  and  increasing  anxiety  for  a  gener- 
al and  powerful  revival  of  religion  among  his  people ;  his  in- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  341 

cessant  labors  to  secure  so  great  a  blessing,  and  the  repeated 
disappointments  he  had  experienced  from  year  to  year.  We 
would  seem,  said  Dr.  Payson,  to  be  on  the  eve  of  an  extensive 
revival,  and  my  hopes  would  be  correspondently  raised ;  and 
then  the  favorable  appearances  would  vanish  away.  Under 
the  powerful  excitement  of  hope,  and  under  the  succeeding 
depression  arising  from  disappointment,  my  strength  failed, 
and  I  sunk  rapidly  under  my  labors.  He  spoke  of  having  been 
under  a  temptation,  constantly,  to  labor  beyond  his  strength  ; 
and  believed  many  a  faithful  minister  had  thus  been  tempted 
by  Satan  to  cut  short  his  days.  In  this  way  his  own  life  had 
been  shortened.  When,  in  a  season  of  excitement,  he  had  ex- 
hausted his  whole  strength,  even  then  Satan  suggested  that  he 
had  not  done  enough,  but  must  do  much  more,  or  be  counted 
unfaithful.' 

If  the  proofs  of  his  disinterestedness  were  not  so  abundant 
and  conclusive,  this  ceaseless  anxiety  for  a  revival  could  hardly 
be  regarded  otherwise  than  as  sinful  impatience,  and  as  indi- 
cating a  want  of  gratitude  for  what  God  did  perform  by  him. 
It  appears  the  more  remarkable,  when  contemplated  in  con- 
nexion with  the  fact,  that  the  church  was  continually  growing 
under  his  ministrations,  and  the  congregation  enlarging,  till 
there  was  not  room  enough  to  receive  them.  There  are  many 
good  ministers,  who  would  consider  themselves  favored  by  such 
a  measure  of  success  as  attended  his  least  honored  labors.  In 
no  year  of  his  ministry  did  his  church  receive  less  than  ten 
new  members,  and  in  only  one  year  so  small  a  number  ;  while, 
at  another  time,  the  yearly  increase  was  seventy-three,  and  in 
the  year  of  his  death,  seventy-nine ;  and  the  average  number 
was  more  than  thirty-five  a  year  during  the  whole  of  his  minis- 
try. If  there  were  an  entire  suspension  of  divine  influences 
at  any  time,  it  was  of  temporary  duration.  Judging  from  the 
accessions  made  to  the  church,  there  must  have  been  a  con- 
stant and  gradual  work  of  God.  If  the  term  of  his  ministry 
be  divided  into  periods  of  five  years,  the  number  added  in  each 
period  differs  fi-om  that  of  every  other  period,  by  a  compara- 
tively small  number.  The  difference  is  in  fkvor  of  the  first 
two  periods,  when,  with  fewer  bodily  infirmities,  he  '  ceased  not 
daily,  and  from  house  to  house,  to  testify  repentance  towards 
God,  and  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.' 

About  mid-summer,  he  returned  from  his  last  excursion 
abroad  to  the  bosom  of  his  family  and  flock,  and  continued  to 
employ  the  little  strength  which  remained  in  making  known 
Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified.  From  this  labor  no  entrea- 
ties could  prevail  with  him  to  desist.  He  continued  to  occupy 
29* 


342  MEMOIR  OF 

his  pulpit  on  the  Sabbath,  for  the  most  part,  through  the  fol- 
lowing winter;  notwithstanding  parts  of  his  body,  particularly 
his  right  arm,  had  already  begun  to  perish,  and  were  not  only 
useless,  but  an  incumbrance.  But  while  *  the  outward  man 
decayed,  the  inward  man  was  renewed  day  by  day.'  This  is 
in  a  degree  true  of  his  mental  faculties,  as  well  as  of  his  reli- 
gious progress.  The  coruscations  of  his  intellect  delighted  and 
astonished  his  visiters.  Among  these  was  the  Secretary  of  the 
American  Education  Society,  who,  asking  Dr.  Payson  for  a 
message  which  he  might  carry  from  him  to  beneficiaries,  re- 
ceived the  following  impromptu  : — 

'^  What  if  God  should  place  in  your  hand  a  diamond,  and 
tell  you  to  inscribe  on  it  a  sentence  v/hich  should  be  read  at 
the  last  day,  and  shown  there  as  an  index  of  your  own  thoughts 
and  feelings  ?  What  care,  what  caution  would  you  exercise  in 
the  selection !  Now,  this  is  what  God  has  done.  He  has 
placed  before  you  immortal  minds,  more  imperishable  than  the 
diamond,  on  which  you  are  about  to  inscribe,  every  day  and 
every  hour,  by  your  instructions,  by  your  spirit,  or  by  your  ex- 
ample, something  which  will  remain,  and  be  exhibited  for,  or 
against  you,  at  the  judgment  day." 

We  shall  close  our  extracts,  and  this  chapter,  with  two  short 
letters  to  his  mother,  the  last  he  ever  wrote  : — 

"  Feb.  1,1S^7. 
''  My  dear  Mother, 

'^  I  have  just  received  your  letter ;  and  though  I  am  obliged 
to  wTite  with  my  left  hand,  and  that  is  numb,  I  must  try  to 
scratch  a  few  lines  in  reply.  I  am  no  better;  am  tolerably 
contented  and  happy,  but  have  not  much  sensible  consolation. 
We  have  increasing  evidence  that  L.  is  become  pious  ;  but  E., 
who  seemed  to  be  in  a  promising  w^ay,  has  lost  his  impressions. 
You  have  probably  heard,  that  Mr.  R.  has  hopes  that  H.  is 
converted.  We  have  about  a  dozen  hopeful  converts,  and  ap- 
pearances are  encouraging. — I  have  much  to  be  thankful  for. 
Wife,  children  and  people,  all  try  to  minister  to  my  comfort. 
I  rejoice  to  hear  that  your  mind  is  in  so  desirable  a  frame, 
though  I  expected  no  less.  God  has  not  led  you  so  far  to  for- 
sake you  at  last.  Should  you  be  taken  away  before  me,  I  shall 
feel  as  Elisha  did  when  he  lost  Elijah ;  for  I  doubt  not  your 
prayers  have  been  of  great  service  to  me.  I  received  a  letter 
from  G.  lately,  inviting  me  to  come  and  spend  part  of  the  win- 
ter at  New  York.     I  thank  him,  but  I  cannot  come.     Home 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  343 

is  the  only  place  for  a  cripple,  who  can  neither  dress  nor  un- 
dress himself;  besides,  I  can  be  of  some  service  to  my  people, 
while  here.  I  have  many  things  to  say ;  but  writing  is  so 
wearisome  and  painful,  that  I  can  add  nothing  more.  Assure 
G.  and  E.  of  my  warmest  love,  and  believe  me 

"  Your  affectionate  son." 

"  My  dear  MOTHER; 

"  I  wrote  the  enclosed  letter  three  weeks  since,  and  sent  it 
with  the  money  by  a  man,  who  said  he  was  going  to  New 
York ;  but  after  I  hoped  it  had  arrived  there,  it  came  back  to 
me  again. — I  have  just  received  your  last  letter,  and  what  shall 
I  say  in  reply  ?  If  my  hand  would  permit,  I  could  say  much ; 
if  my  health  would  allow  of  it,  I  would  come  and  see  you. 
As  it  is,  I  can  only  say,  God  be  with  you,  my  dear  mother,  and 
bless  you,  as  he  has  made  you  a  blessing  to  me.  If  it  be  his 
will  that  we  should  not  meet  again  in  this  world,  I  must  say — 
Farewell,  for  a  short  time ;  for  short,  I  trust,  will  be  the  time 
before  we  meet  again.  Farewell,  then,  my  dear,  dear  moth- 
er !  for  a  short  time,  farewell !" 

It  proved  to  be  the  last  farewell.  His  mother,  a  few  days 
afterwards,  was  called  to  her  eternal  home. 


344  MEMOIR  OF 


CHAPTER  XX. 

His  last  labors — His  spiritual  joys,  heavenly  counsels^  and 
brightening  intellect,  during  the  progress  of  his  disease — 
His  triumphant  exit — Conclusion. 

Dr.  Payson  was  at  length  compelled  to  yield  to  the  irresist- 
ible power  of  disease.  Parts  of  his  body,  including  his  right 
arm  and  left  side,  were  very  singularly  affected.  They  were 
incapable  of  motion,  and  lost  all  sense  of  feeling  externally  ; 
while,  in  the  interior  parts  of  the  limbs  thus  affected,  he  expe- 
rienced, at  intervals,  a  most  intense  burning  sensation,  which 
he  compared  to  a  stream  of  fused  metal,  or  liquid  fire,  cours- 
ing through  his  bones.  No  external  applications  were  of  the 
least  service  ;  and  in  addition  to  his  acute  sufferings  from  this 
source,  he  was  frequently  subject  to  most  violent  attacks  of 
nervous  head-ache. 

It  was  with  great  reluctance  that  he  relinquished  preaching. 
*  The  spirit  continued  willing,'  long  after  the  *  flesh  failed.' 
But  who  can  resist  the  appointment  of  Heaven !  The  decree 
had  gone  forth,  that  he  must  die  ;  and  the  progress  of  his 
complicated  maladies  declared  but  too  unequivocally  that  the 
decree  must  soon  be  executed.  He  did  not,  however,  cease 
preaching  at  once,  but,  at  first,  secured  assistance  for  half 
the  day  only.  An  arrangement  to  this  effect,  which  was  ex- 
pected to  continue  several  weeks,  commenced  on  the  second 
Sabbath  of  March.  He  occupied  the  pulpit  in  the  morning. 
His  text  was.  The  word  of  the  Lord  is  tried.  The  sermon 
was  not  written,  of  course  ;  but  no  one,  that  he  ever  wrote, 
net  even  his  celebrated  discourse  on  the  Bible,  was  more  in- 
structive and  eloquent  than  this — particularly  those  parts  in 
which  he  described  the  trials  to  which  the  word  of  the  Lord 
had  been  subjected  by  its  enemies,  and  the  tests  of  a  different 
character  which  it  had  sustained  from  its  friends.  Never, 
scarcely,  were  the  mightiest  infidels  made  to  appear  so  puny, 
insignificant,  and  foolish.  "  He  who  sitteth  in  the  heavens" 
could  almost  be  seen  *  deriding  them.'  When  describing  the 
manner  in  which  Christians  had  tried  it,  he  *  spoke  out  of  the 
abundance  of  his  heart.'  Experience  aided  his  eloquence,  and 
added  strength  to  the  conviction  which  it  wrought.     And  it 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  345 

would  have  been  listened  to  with  a  still  greater  intenseness  of 
interest,  had  his  own  trials,  mentioned  in  the  preceding  chap- 
ter, been  known.  The  application  of  the  subject  to  his  audi- 
tory must  be  left  for  imagination  to  supply ;  for  it  cannot  be 
conveyed  on  paper. 

On  pronouncing  the  blessing,  he  requested  the  congrega- 
tion to  resume  their  seats.  He  descended  from  the  pulpit, 
and  took  his  station  in  front  of  it,  and  commenced  a  most 
solemn  appeal  to  the  assembly.  He  began  with  a  recognition 
of  that  feeling  in  an  auditory,  which  leads  them  to  treat  a 
minister's  exhortations  as  if  they  were  merely  a  discharge  of 
professional  duty,  by  one  placed  above  them,  and  having  little 
sympathy  with  them.  ^  I  now  put  aside  the  minister,'  said  he  ; 
'  I  come  down  among  you ;  place  myself  on  a  visible  equality  ; 
I  address  you  as  a  fellow  man,  a  friend,  a  brother,  and  fellow 
traveller  to  the  bar  of  God  ;  as  one  equally  interested  with 
yourselves  in  the  truths  which  I  have  been  declaring.'  He 
then  gave  vent  to  the  struggling  emotions  of  his  heart,  in  a 
strain  of  affectionate  entreaty,  expressing  the  most  anxious  de- 
sires for  their  salvation.  In  conclusion,  he  referred  them  to 
the  common  practice,  when  men  have  any  great  object  to  ac- 
complish, of  assembling  together,  and  adopting  resolutions  ex- 
pressive of  their  convictions  and  purposes ;  and  he  wished  his 
hearers  to  follow  him  in  a  series  which  he  was  about  to  pro- 
pose, and  to  adopt  them,  not  by  any  visible  act  or  expression, 
but  mentally,  if  they  thought  them  of  sufficient  importance, 
and  could  do  it  sincerely.  One  resolution  expressed  a  convic- 
tion of  the  truth  of  the  Bible  ;  another,  of  criminal  indifference 
to  its  momentous  disclosures ;  another  acknowledged  the 
claims  of  Jehovah  ;  another,  the  paramount  importance  of  at- 
tention to  the  concerns  of  the  soul ;  and  another,  the  purpose 
to  seek  its  salvation  without  delay.  Though  his  withered 
right  arm  hung  helpless  by  his  side,  yet  he  seemed  "  instinct 
with  life  ;"  and  every  successive  resolution  was  rendered  em- 
phatic by  a  gesture  of  the  left. 

In  all  his  public  ministrations,  during  this  period,  when  his 
body  was  sinking  towards  the  grave,  there  was  a  singular  adapt- 
edness  of  truth  to  existing  circumstances.  The  subjects  upon 
which  he  expatiated  were  in  unison  with  his  condition,  as  a 
servant  of  God  ripening  fast  for  heaven.  There  was  much  of 
the  nature  of  testimony  for  God.  He  omitted  no  opportunity, 
public  or  private,  to  maintain  the  honor  and  perfections  of 
Him,  whose  ambassador  he  was.  He  could  scarcely  utter  a 
word,  without  rendering  it  obvious  to  all  who  heard  him,  that 
God  was  higher  in  his  esteem  than  any,  than  all  created  be- 


346  MEMOIR  OF 

ings.  One  illustration  of  this  statement  was  afforded  by  a  ser- 
mon which  he  preached  as  late  as  the  last  Sabbath  in  April, 
from  2  Samuel  xviii.  3 — Thou  art  worth  ten  thousand  of  us. 
Parts  of  this  sermon  are  reported  from  recollection,  by  his  el- 
dest daughter,  who  has  been  the  most  successful — where  all 
fail — in  retaining  his  characteristic  expressions. 

The  text,  which  was  addressed  to  David  by  his  subjects.  Dr. 
Payson  applied  to  Jehovah,  and  illustrated  its  truth  in  this  ap- 
plication by  a  variety  of  methods,  showing  that  God  is  worth 
ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  of  human  beings ; — yea,  worth 
more  than  all  the  creatures  that  ever  have  been,  and  all  that 
ever  will  be  created  : — 

"  Suppose  you  take  the  capacity  for  happiness,  which  has 
been  said  by  philosophers  to  be  the  only  true  standard  of  perfec- 
tion : — if  the  happiness  which  God  enjoys  were  divided  into 
portions,  each  of  which  would  be  sufficient  to  fill  an  archangel 
to  overflowing,  there  would  be  an  infinite  number  of  those  por- 
tions. God's  happiness  is  not  merely  a  fountain,  but  an  ocean 
without  bottom  or  shore.  And  this  should  be  a  never-failing 
source  of  consolation  to  the  Christian,  when  he  reflects  on  all 
the  misery  in  the  world,  that  still  happiness  predominates ; — 
for  God  is  infinitely — infinitely  happy. 

"  The  man  who  should  go  round  the  universe — suppose,  if 
you  will,  that  each  of  the  numerous  millions  of  stars  known  to 
astronomers,  is  the  centre  of  a  system,  and  that  each  of  these 
innumerable  worlds  is  as  populous  as  our  own ; — yet  the  man, 
who  should,  at  one  fell  stroke,  fill  all  these  countless  myriads  of 
beings  to  the  very  brim  with  wretchedness,  would  do  in- 
finitely less  mischief,  than  he  who  should,  if  that  were  possible, 
destroy  the  happiness  of  Jehovah.  In  the  first  instance,  it 
would  be  but  poisoning  the  streams ;  in  the  latter,  the  foun- 
tain itself  would  be  turned  into  bitterness.     =^     *     * 

*'  Thus  we  have  proved  that  God  is  worth  infinitely  more  than 
all  his  creatures.  But,  instead  of  acknowledging  and  feeling 
this,  men  practically  exalt  themselves  ten  thousand  times  above 
God.  They  think  ten  thousand  times  as  much  of  themselves  as 
of  God ;  an  injury  done  to  themselves  affects  them  ten  thousand 
times  as  much  as  one  done  to  God ;  and  Jehovah  sees  him- 
self cast  down — down — down  from  his  throne,  to  make  room 
for  little  insignificant  worms  of  the  dust.  And  what  can  be 
worse  than  this !  Men  talk  about  degrees  of  wickedness,  be- 
cause some  have  broken  the  laws  of  their  country,  and  others 
have  not ;  but  this  undervaluing  and  degrading  their  Maker 
is  what  all  have  done ;  and  it  is  not  possible  to  go  farther  in 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  347 

wickedness.  Yes ;  this  is  what  I  have  done, — and  I  desire  to 
make  the  confession  with  shame.  I  have  done  this ;  and  you 
have  done  this,  my  hearers.  In  the  presence  of  this  much 
insulted  God,  I  must  charge  it  upon  you.  And  I  tell  you,  my 
hearers,  if  you  do  not  repent  of  this  conduct,  God  will  be  obli- 
ged to  put  you  down — down — down,  as  low  as  you  have  degra- 
ded him.  If  he  should  not  do  this,  if,  out  of  false  pity  to  one 
individual,  he  should  pardon  you  without  repentance ;  that  in- 
stant, all  the  songs  of  heaven  would  stop,  and  all  the  happiness 
of  the  universe  would  be  dried  up.  Heaven,  the  habitation  of 
God's  glory,  where  myriads  of  celestial  intelligences  are  con- 
templating his  infinite  perfections,  would  become,  from  a  place 
of  perfect  and  unmingled  happiness,  a  scene  of  unutterable,  in- 
conceivable misery.  "  Jehovah  is  no  longer  worthy  to  be  trust- 
ed !  Jehovah  is  no  longer  worthy  to  be  trusted!"  would  be  the 
universal  and  pathetic  exclamation.  "  We  thought  there  was 
one  Being,  and  only  one,  on  whom  we  might  depend ;  but  even 
He  has  failed  ;  and  where  now  shall  we  look  for  perfection !" 
But,  blessed  be  God,  these  dreadful  imaginings  can  never  be 
realized,  for  Jehovah  will  never  change*^ 

In  this  connexion,  we  shall  introduce  a  paragraph,  commu- 
nicated by  a  ministering  brother,  who  occupied  his  pulpit  on 
the  day  in  which  the  interview  mentioned  took  place  : — 

"  As  an  instance  of  his  strong  fancy,  and  of  the  uses  to 
which  he  applied  it,  I  will  mention,  that,  on  the  last  Sabbath 
in  which,  with  great  difficulty,  he  entered  the  house  of  God, 
he  said  to  me, — *  I  find  in  my  illness,  that  the  power  of  imag- 
ination is  un weakened,  and  that  it  is  very  easy  for  me  to  wan- 
der into  the  regions  of  fancy. — On  the  subject  of  the  wisdom 
of  God  in  the  direction  of  mysterious  events,  and  our  duty  of 
submission  and  faith,  it  has  occurred  to  me  recently,  that  our 
conceptions  might  be  assisted  by  imagining  God  to  take  a  hu- 
man form,  answering — if  it  were  possible — to  his  infinite  na- 
ture.— What  would  be  its  dimensions  ? — The  angel,  in  the  book 
of  Revelation,  is  represented  as  standing  with  one  foot  on  the 
sea,  and  the  other  on  the  land,  and  lifting  up  his  hand  to  heav- 
en. But,  were  God  in  a  form  such  as  I  have  supposed,  one 
foot  would  be  on  the  remotest  star  in  one  direction  of  infinite 
space,  and  the  other  foot  on  the  remotest  star  in  the  opposite 
direction  of  the  unbounded  expanse  : — and  should  we  propose 
to  climb  from  his  feet  to  the  glories  of  his  face, — if  we  had  the 
speed  of  light,  and  had  been  travelling  from  the  creation  of  the 
world,  we  should  have  made  little  progress  in  our  journey. 


348  MEMOIR  OF 

And  shall  we,  then,  presumptuously  judge  of  the  ways  of  this 
God,  and  imagine  that  we  could  manage  earthly  things  more 
wisely  than  he  1  Shall  we  have  any  doubts  as  to  his  unfailing 
wisdom,  and  perfect  rectitude,  and  infinite  goodness  V — I  have 
not  been  able  to  give  you  his  words,  but  I  have  given  you  his 
thoughts." 

Of  the  penetrating  and  all-absorbing  effect  of  his  last  public 
ministrations,  particularly  at  the  communion  table,  some  feeble 
conception  may  be  formed  from  an  extract  furnished  by  a  gen- 
tleman, who,  for  twelve  years,  had  been  only  an  occasional 
attendant  on  his  ministry.  The  first  paragraph  has  no  spe- 
cial reference  to  this  period,  but  may  properly  oe  retained  for 
the  value  of  its  testimony  : — 

"  At  the  sacramental  table,  especially,  did  his  mind  appear 
to  be  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  things  unseen  and  eter- 
nal. To  a  candid  observer  it  was  manifest,  at  such  seasons, 
that  his  "  fellowship  was  with  the  Father,  and  with  his  Son,  Je- 
sus Christ."  I  doubt  not  that  I  express  the  feelings  of  each 
member  of  his  church,  when  I  say,  that  often,  on  these  occa- 
sions, he  seemed  to  soar  to  the  third  heaven  ;  and  by  those  fer- 
vent and  elevated  effusions  of  thought,  with  which  he  always 
accompanied  his  administration  of  the  ordinance,  he  literally 
carried  the  minds,  if  not  the  hearts,  of  his  hearers  with  him. 
His  influence,  in  this  respect,  is  associated  with  my  earliest 
recollections  of  Dr.  Payson.  In  one  particular  instance,  which 
occurred  during  my  boyhood,  such  was  the  absorbing  influence 
of  his  eloquence  on  my  own  mind  ;  arising,  doubtless,  more  from 
the  attraction  of  his  fervent  zeal,  and  that  creative  fancy  for 
which  he  was  so  remarkably  distinguished,  than  from  any  special 
regard,  on  my  own  part,  to  the  truths  he  uttered ;  that,  from  the 
commencement  of  the  public  services  of  the  afternoon,  to  the 
close  of  the  sacramental  season  which  succeeded  them,  it 
seemed  like  a  pleasing  reverie  ;  and  had  all  the  effect  of  an  ocu- 
lar survey  of  every  scene  connected  with  the  humiliation  and 
exaltation  of  the  Saviour.  So  strong  was  the  mental  impression 
received,  that  I  can  still  distinctly  recollect,  not  only  his  text 
on  that  occasion* — Rev.  iv.  3,  latter  clause, — but  also  the  hymn 
with  which  the  public  services  were  introduced, — H.  25,  B.  1, 
Watts. — He  seemed  to  have  taken  his  flight  from  one  of  the 
most  elevated  heights  of  meditation,  and  to  soar  in  a  climax 
of  devotion,  and  sublimity  of  thought,  until  faith  changed  the 
heavenly  vision  into  a  reality,  and  spread  all  the  glories  of  re- 
demption around  the  consecrated  symbols  of  Christ's  death. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  349 

"  I  had  the  solemn  pleasure,  too,  of  being  present  at  one  of  his 
last  cc^mmunion  seasons  with  the  church  on  earth.  It  wa;:.  an 
affecting,  a  soul-cheering  scene.  Its  interest  was  greatly  en- 
hanced by  the  nearness  in  which  he  seemed  to  stand  to  the 
communion  of  the  church  triumphant.  His  body  was  so  ema- 
ciated with  long  and  acute  suffering,  that  it  was  scarcely  able 
to  sustain  the  effort  once  more  imposed  upon  it ;  but  his  soul, 
raised  above  its  perishing  influence,  and  filled  with  a  joyful  tran- 
quillity, seemed  entirely  regardless  of  the  weakness  of  its  mor- 
tal tenement.  His  right  hand  and  arm  were  so  palsied  by  dis- 
ease, as  to  be  quite  useless ;  except  that,  in  the  act  of  breaking 
the  bread,  when  he  could  not  well  dispense  with  it,  he  placed 
it  on  the  table  with  the  other  hand,  just  as  you  raise  any  lifeless 
weight,  until  it  had  performed  the  service  required  of  it.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  was  unwilling,  that  even  the  withered  hand 
should  be  found  unemployed  in  the  holy  work.  Truly,  thought 
I,  there  must  be  a  blessed  reality  in  that  religion,  which  can  thus 
make  the  soul  tranquil  and  happy,  in  the  constant  and  rapid 
advances  of  decay  and  death  ! 

"  I  have  never  known  Dr.  Payson  when  he  seemed  more 
abstracted  from  earth  than  on  this  occasion.  It  was,  as  he  sup- 
posed, and  as  his  church  feared,  their  final  interview  at  that  ta- 
ble. In  all  the  glowing  fervor  of  devotion,  assisted  by  his  ever 
fertile  imagination,  he  contemplated  the  Saviour  as  visibly  pres- 
ent in  the  midst  of  them;  and,  with  his  usual  eloquence  and 
closeness  of  appeal,  he  seemed  to  make  each  communicant  feel, 
that  what  he  had  imagined  was  a  reality.  There  was  a  breath- 
less silence ;  and  the  solemnity  of  the  scene  could  hardly  have 
been  surpassed,  if,  as  he  expressed  it,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
were  seen  sitting  before  them ;  or  addressing  to  each  individual 
member  the  momentous  inquiry,  "  Lovest  thou  me  f  I  can 
say,  for  one,  that  the  terrors  of  hypocrisy  never  swelled  so  fear- 
ful, and  the  realities  of  the  judgment-seat  never  seemed  nearer, 
than  at  that  solemn  hour.  And  I  trust  I  and  many  others  were 
then  enabled  from  the  heart  to  pray,  with  the  Psalmist,  Search 
me,  O  God,  &c. 

"  From  the  occasional  opportunities  I  have  enjoyed  of  attend- 
ing on  Dr.  Payson's  administration  of  that  ordinance,  I  can 
have  no  doubt  that  they  were  to  him  foretastes  of  that  supper 
of  the  Lamb,  on  whose  more  blessed  celebration  he  so  trium- 
phantly entered.  And  it  is  an  interesting,  a  momentous  ques- 
tion,— 

"  Shall  we,  who  sat  with  him  below, 
Commune  with  him  above  V 

30 


350  MEMOIR  OF 

On  the  first  of  July,  he  attended  public  worship,  and,  after  a 
sermon  from  his  assistant,  he  rose  and  addressed  his  people 
thus : — 

"  Ever  since  I  became  a  minister,  it  has  been  my  earnest 
wish,  that  I  might  die  of  some  disease,  which  would  allow  me 
to  preach  a  farewell  sermon  to  my  people ;  but  as  it  is  not  proba- 
ble that  I  shall  ever  be  able  to  do  this,  I  will  attemj)t  to  say  a 
few  words  now  : — it  may  be  the  last  time  that  I  shall  ever  ad- 
dress you.  This  is  not  merely  a  presentiment.  It  is  an  opin- 
ion founded  on  facts,  and  maintained  by  physicians  acquainted 
with  my  case,  that  I  shall  never  behold  another  spring. 

''And  now,  standing  on  the  borders  of  the  eternal  world,  I 
look  back  on  my  past  ministry,  and  on  the  manner  in  which  I 
have  performed  its  duties;  and,  O  my  hearers,  if  you  have  not 
performed  your  duties  better  than  I  have  mine,  wo!  wo!  be  to 
you — unless  you  have  an  Advocate  and  Intercessor  in  heaven. 
We  have  lived  together  twenty  years,  and  have  spent  more  than 
a  thousand  Sabbaths  together,  and  I  have  given  you  at  least  two 
thousand  warnings.  I  am  now  going  to  render  an  account 
Iww  tliey  were  given,  and  you,  my  hearers,  will  soon  have  to 
render  an  account  how  they  were  received.  One  more  warning 
I  will  give  you.  Once  more,  your  shepherd,  who  will  be  yours 
no  longer,  entreats  you  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come.  Oh, 
let  me  h  ive  the  happiness  of  seeing  my  dear  people  attending 
to  their  eternal  interests,  that  I  may  not  have  reason  to  say,  I 
have  labored  in  vain,  I  have  spent  my  strength  for  nought." 

At  the  communion  table,  the  same  day,  he  said, — 

"  Christians  seem  to  expect  that  their  views  of  Christ,  and 
love  to  him,  will  increase  without  their  using  the  proper  means. 
They  should  select  some  scene  in  his  life,  and  meditate  long 
upon  it,  and  strive  to  bring  the  circumstances  before  their  minds, 
and  imagine  how  he  thought  and  felt  at  the  time.  At  first,  all 
will  appear  confused  and  indistinct;  but  let  them  continue  to 
look  steadily,  and  the  mists  will  disappear,  and  their  hearts  will 
begin  to  burn  with  love  to  their  Saviour.  At  least  one  scene 
in  Christ's  life  should  be  thus  reviewed  every  day,  if  the  Chris- 
tian hopes  to  find  his  love  to  his  Redeemer  increase." 

His  public  labors  were  now  nearly  over ;  but  he  was  daily 
and  hourly  uttering  something  to  rouse  the  careless,  or  for  the 
instruction,  edification,  and  comfort  of  God's  children. 

To  his  daughter,  who  expressed  a  wish  that  labor  as  cer- 
tainly ensured  success  in  spiritual  as  in  temporal  affairs,  he 
said — "It  does;  it  is  just  as  certain  that  prayers  for  spiritual 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  351 

blessinors  will  be  answered,  whenever  God  sees  best,  as  that 
the  husbandman,  who  sows  his  seed  with  proper  precaution, 
will  reap.  The  only  reason  that  our  endeavors  to  obtain  spir- 
itual blessings  are  not  oftener  attended  with  success,  is,  they 
are  not  made  in  earnest.  Never  omit  prayer,  or  any  devotion- 
al exercise,  when  the  stated  season  for  it  arrives,  because  you 
feel  indisposed  to  the  duty." 

July  12,  13.  On  both  these  days.  Dr.  Payson  seemed  a  lit- 
tle revived.  He  had  tried  sailing  around  the  harbor,  and 
found  it  beneficial.  On  repeating  the  experiment,  however,  he 
discovered  that,  though  these  water  excursions  were  of  service 
to  his  lungs,  they  increased  the  paralytic  affection — if  such  it 
was — in  his  arm,  and  they  were  relinquished. 

July  22.  Sabbath.  To  his  daughter  he  said,  "  There  is 
nothing  in  which  young  converts  are  more  prone  to  err,  than 
in  laying  too  much  stress  upon  their  feelings.  If  they  have  a 
comfortable  half  hour  in  the  morning,  it  atones  for  a  multitude 
of  sins  in  the  course  of  the  day.  Christ  says,  '  If  ye  love  me, 
keep  my  commandments.'  It  would  be  well  for  us  to  pay  more 
attention  to  our  conduct,  and  prove  the  depth  of  our  feeling  by  our 
obedience."  He  also  advised  her  to  observe  wsome  plan  with 
regard  to  reading  on  the  Sabbath.  In  the  morning  he  recom- 
mended reading  the  Scriptures  exclusively,  and  afterwards 
works  intended  to  convey  infr  mation  respecting  religious 
subjects. 

July  29.  He  remarked  to  some  new  converts  who  called, 
that  the  most  important  direction  he  could  give  them  was,  to 
spend  much  time  in  retired  converse  with  the  Scriptures,  and 
with  God.  "  If  you  wished  to  cherish  the  remembrance  of  an 
absent  friend,  you  would  read  over  his  letters  daily,  meditate 
on  his  acts  of  kindness  to  you,  and  look  at  any  tokens  of  affec- 
tion which  he  might  have  left  you." 

**  We  are  accustomed  to  suppose  that  God's  feelings  to- 
wards us  vary  according  to  our  own;  that  when  we  are  in  a 
lively  spiritual  frame  of  mind,  he  regards  us  with  more  com- 
placency than  at  other  times.  This  is  not  the  case.  The  feel- 
ings with  which  God  regards  us  do  not  fluctuate  like  ours." 

Aug.  5.  Sabbath.  This  day,  he  entered  the  meeting-house 
for  the  last  time ;  and  this  month  completes  twenty  years, 
since  he  entered  it,  the  first  time,  as  a  preacher — then  a 
trembling  youth,  now  the  spiritual  father  of  many  hundreds ; 


352  MEMOIR  OF 

then  just  girded  for  the  warfare,  now  the  veteran,  who  had 
"  fought  the  good  fight,"  and  was  just  going  to  resign  his  com- 
mission, and  receive  a  crown  of  unfading  glory. — He  made  a 
great  effort  to  go  out,  as  there  were  twenty-one  persons  to  be 
admitted  to  the  churcli.  He  was  supported  into  the  house  by 
his  senior  deacons  ;  and,  although  he  merely  read  the  cove- 
nant, and  remained  during  the  administration  of  the  sacrament, 
he  was  exceedingly  overcome.  Most  of  the  persons  present 
were  much  affected,  and,  after  the  services,  many  crowded 
around  him,  to  take  his  hand  for  the  last  time. 

Aug.  8.  He  had  a  violent  nervous  head-ache  ;  and  was 
much  interrupted  in  speaking  by  a  difficulty  of  breathing  ;  but 
said,  in  a  cheerful  voice,  to  some  of  his  church  who  were  in, 
— "  I  want  you  always  to  believe  that  God  is  faithful.  How- 
ever dark  and  mysterious  any  of  his  dispensations  may  appear, 
still  confide  in  him.  He  can  make  you  happy  when  every 
thing  else  is  taken  from  you."  He  baptized  several  children  at 
his  own  house,  but  the  exertion  was  too  much  for  him. 

Aug.  13.  He  received  from  a  society  of  young  men  in  his 
parish,  who  were  associated  for  religious  improvement,  a  letter, 
in  which  they  generously  offered  to  give  his  son  a  liberal  educa- 
tion.    The  following  is  his  answer : — 

"To  the  Society  for  Religious  Improvement. 

"  Beloved  Brethren, 

"  No  act  of  kindness,  which  it  was  in  the  power  of  man  to 
show,  could  have  been  more  soothing  to  my  anxieties  as  a 
dying  parent,  or  more  grateful  to  a  dying  minister,  than  your 
unexpected  and  most  generous  offer  to  furnish  the  means  of  a 
liberal  education  to  my  oldest  son. 

"  Most  fervently  do  I  thank  you  for  making  this  offer,  and 
the  Author  of  all  good  for  inducing  you  to  do  it.  To  see  him 
thus  already  beginning  to  take  care  of  a  family,  which  I  must 
soon  leave,  is  a  great  encouragement  to  my  faith,  that  he  will 
continue  to  take  care  of  them  after  I  am  gone. 

"If  it  is  any  satisfaction  to  you  to  know  that  you  have  as- 
sisted to  smooth  your  pastor's  dying  pillow,  and  shed  light  on 
his  last  hours,  you  may  feel  that  satisfaction  in  a  very  high 
degree.  With  most  earnest  prayers  that  God  would  reward 
you  abundantly  for  this  kind  offer,  I  have  concluded  to  accept 
it,  provided  that  my  son,  when  he  shall  have  attained  the  age 
of  sixteen,  shall  be  found  to  possess  such  a  character  as  will 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  353 

justify  a  hope  that  he  will  make  a  good  use  of  the  advantages 
with  which  you  generously  furnish  him.  And  now,  brethren, 
farewell." 

During  this  month,  his  "wreck  of  being"  was  further  shatter- 
ed by  a  spasmodic  cough,  which  at  times  threatened  absolute 
strangulation. 

Sept.  4.  He  said  to  his  wife  and  daughter — "  I  do  not 
think  you  are  sufficiently  thankful  for  my  consolations,  or 
realize  how  wonderful  it  is  that  I  am  thus  supported.  Owing 
to  my  natural  activity,  and  unwillingness  to  be  dependent  on 
others  for  the  supply  of  my  wants,  these  trials  are  exactly  those 
which  are  most  calculated  to  make  me  miserable.  But  God 
can  sweeten  the  bitterest  cup." 

He  afterwards  said,  with  emotions  which  would  hardly  allow 
him  to  speak, — '*  Oh,  my  daughter,  how  you  will  regret,  when 
you  come  to  see  how  good  God  is,  that  you  did  not  serve  him 
better.     Oh !  he  is  so  goc.d,  so  good." 

Sept.  9.  During  the  preceding  week,  he  had  rode  out 
several  times,  being  carried  down  stairs,  and  lifted  into  the 
chaise.  For  a  few  days,  he  thought  himself  better ;  but  these 
favorable  appearances  were  of  short  deration.  He  remarked, 
that  sometimes,  in  order  to  try  his  people's  faith,  God  gives 
them  a  prospect  that  an  affliction  is  about  to  be  removed,  and 
then  permits  it  to  return  again.  He  compared  his  present  case 
to  that  of  a  man,  who,  after  having  been  a  long  time  confined 
in  prison,  finds  his  door  open  one  morning  ;  but,  on  attempting 
to  leave  it,  the  door  is  suddenly  closed  with  such  violence,  as 
to  throw  him  prostrate  on  the  floor. 

He  was  asked,  on  this  day,  by  some  of  his  friends,  if  he  could 
see  any  particular  reason  for  this  dispensation. — "  No," 
replied  he;  "but  I  am  as  well  satisfied  as  if  I  could  see  ten 
thousand.    God's  will  is  the  very  perfection  of  all  reason." 

In  answer  to  the  question,  by  a  lady  from  B.,  Are  you  better 
than  you  were  ?  he  replied,  "  Not  in  body,  but  in  mind.  If  my 
happiness  continues  to  increase,  I  cannot  support  it  much  long- 
er." On  being  asked.  Are  your  views  of  heaven  clearer  and 
brighter  than  ever  before  ?  he  said, — "  Why,  for  a  few  moments, 
I  may  have  had  as  bright ;  but  formerly  my  joys  were  tumul- 
tuous ;  now  all  is  calm  and  peaceful."  He  was  asked,  "  In 
30* 


354  MEMOIR  OF 

your  anticipations  of  heaven,  do  you  think  of  meeting  departed 
friends?"  After  a  moment's  reflection,  he  said,  with  a  most  ex- 
pressive countenance,  "  If  I  meet  Christ,  'tis  no  matter  wheth- 
er I  see  others  or  not — though  I  shall  want  some  to  help  me 
praise  him."  He  doubtless  had  an  opinion  on  this  subject ; 
but  he  remembered  Christ's  answer  to  the  question,  "  Are 
there  few  that  be  saved  ?" 

"  God  deals  strangely  with  his  creatures,  to  promote  their 
happiness.  Who  would  have  thought  that  I  must  be  reduced 
to  this  state,  helpless  and  crippled,  to  experience  the  highest 
enjoyment !" 

"  You  ought  to  feel  happy,  all  ought  to  feel  happy,  who  come 
here,  for  they  are  within  a  few  steps  of  heaven."  During  the 
course  of  this  conversation,  he  repeated  this  verse,  "  Thy  sun 
shall  no  more  go  down,  neither  shall  thy  moon  withdraw  itself; 
for  the  Lord  shall  be  thine  everlasting  light,  and  the  days  of 
thy  mourning  shall  be  ended."  Turning  to  a  young  lady  pres- 
ent, he  said,  "  Do  you  not  think  this  is  worth  travelling  over 
many  high  hills  and  difficult  places  to  obtain  ?"  "  Give  my 
love  to  my  friends  in  Boston ;  tell  them  all  I  ever  said  in  praise 
of  God  or  religion  falls  infinitely  below  the  truth." 

"  Dr.  Clarke,  in  his  travels,  speaking  of  the  companies  that 
were  travelling  from  the  East  to  Jerusalem,  represents  the  pro- 
cession as  being  very  long ;  and,  after  climbing  over  the  extend- 
ed and  heavy  ranges  of  hills  that  bounded  the  way,  some  of 
the  foremost  at  length  reached  the  top  of  the  last  hill,  and, 
stretching  up  their  hands  in  gestures  of  joy,  cried  out,  "The 
Holy  City  !  the  Holy  City  !" — and  fell  down  and  worshipped; 
while  those  who  were  behind  pressed  forward  to  see. — So  the 
dying  Christian,  when  he  gets  on  the  last  summit  of  life,  and 
stretches  his  vision  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  heavenly  city,  may 
cry  out  of  its  glories,  and  incite  those  who  are  behind  to  press 
forward  to  the  sight." 

To  a  clergyman — "  Oh,  if  ministers  only  saw  the  inconceiv- 
able glory  that  is  before  them,  and  the  preciousness  of  Christ, 
they  would  not  be  able  to  refrain  from  going  about,  leaping 
and  clapping  their  hands  for  joy,  and  exclaiming,  I'm  a  minister 
of  Christ !  I'm  a  minister  of  Christ !" 

"  When  I  read  Bunyan's  description  of  the  land  of  Beulah, 
where  the  sun  shines  and  the  birds  sing  day  and  night,  I  used 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  355 

to  doubt  whether  there  was  such  a  place ;  but  now  my  own  ex- 
perience has  convinced  me  of  it,  and  it  infinitely  transcends  all 
my  previous  conceptions." 

"  I  think  the  happiness  I  enjoy  is  similar  to  that  enjoyed  by 
glorified  spirits  before  the  resurrection." 

Sept.  16.  Sabbath.  He  awaked  exclaiming,  **  I  am  going 
to  mount  Zion,  to  the  city  of  the  living  God,  to  the  heavenly 
Jerusalem,  to  an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  to  the  gener- 
al assembly  and  church  of  the  first  born,  and  to  God  the  Judge 
of  all." 

During  the  night  of  September  17th,  he  was  seized  with 
spasms,  which,  it  seemed,  must  separate  soul  and  body.  It 
was  not  thought  by  his  physician,  that  he  could  survive  a  sec- 
ond attack ;  but  his  hold  on  life  remained,  though  the  spasms 
continued  to  return  every  succeeding  night  with  more  or  less 
violence.  Every  new  attack  seemed,  however,  to  strengthen  the 
energies  of  his  mind.*  No  better  evidence  of  this  can  be 
desired,  than  is  exhibited  in  a  letter  which  he  dictated  to  his 
sister : — 

"  Sept.  19. 
^'  Dear  Sister, 

"  Were  I  to  adopt  the  figurative  language  of  Bunyan,  I  might 
date  this  letter  from  the  land  of  Beulah,  of  which  I  have  been 
for  some  weeks  a  happy  inhabitant.  The  celestial  city  is  full 
in  my  view.  Its  glories  beam  upon  me,  its  breezes  fan  me,  its 
odors  are  wafted  to  me,  its  sounds  strike  upon  my  ears,  and 
its  spirit  is  breathed  into  my  heart.  Nothing  separates  me 
from  it  but  the  river  of  death,  which  now  appears  but  as  an  insig- 
nificant rill,  that  may  be  crossed  at  a  single  step,  whenever  God 
shall  give  permission.  The  Sun  of  Righteousness  has  been  grad- 
ually drawing  nearer  and  nearer,  appearing  larger  and  brighter 
as  he  approached,  and  now  he  fills  the  whole  hemisphere ;  pour- 
ing forth  a  flood  of  glory,  in  which  I  seem  to  float  like  an  insect 
in  the  beams  of  the  sun  ;  exulting,  yet  almost  trembling,  while 
I  gaze  on  this  excessive  brightness,  and  wondering,  with  unut- 
terable wonder,  why  God  should  deign  thus  to  shine  upon  a  sin- 
ful worm.     A  single  heart  and  a  single  tongue  seem  altogether 


^  ^  The  sod's  dark  cottage,  shattered  and  decayed, 
Let  in  new  light  throu;:^h  chinks  v.hich  thuc  had  made.' 


356  MEMOIR  OF 

inadequate  to  my  wants :  I  want  a  whole  heart  for  every  sepa- 
rate emotion,  and  a  whole  tongue  to  express  that  emotion. 

"  But  why  do  I  speak  thus  of  myself  and  my  feelings  ?  why 
not  speak  only  of  our  God  and  Redeem^er  ?  It  is  because  I 
know  not  what  to  say.  When  I  would  speak  of  them,  my  words 
are  all  swallowed  up.  I  can  only  tell  you  what  effects  their 
presence  produces,  and  even  of  these  I  can  tell  you  but  very 
little.  O,  my  sister,  my  sister  !  could  you  but  know  what 
awaits  the  Christian  ;  could  you  know  only  so  much  as  I  know, 
you  could  not  refrain  from  rejoicing,  and  even  leaping  for  joy. 
Labors,  trials,  troubles,  would  be  nothing :  you  would  rejoice 
in  afflictions,  and  glory  in  tribulations;  and,  like  Paul  and  Silas, 
sing  God's  praises  in  the  darkest  night,  and  in  the  deepest  dun- 
geon. You  have  known  a  little  of  my  trials  and  conflicts,  and 
know  that  they  have  been  neither  few  nor  small ;  and  I  hope 
this  glorious  termination  of  them  will  serve  to  strengthen  your 
faith,  and  elevate  your  hope. 

*'And  now,  my  dear,  dear  sister,  farewell.  Hold  on  your 
Christian  course  but  a  few  days  longer,  and  you  will  meet  in 
heaven, 

**  Your  happy  and  affectionate  brother, 

"  Edward  Payson." 

The  next  day,  he  sent  for  the  editor  of  a  religious  journal, 
and  expressed  his  wishes  in  regard  to  the  disposition  which 
should  be  made  of  a  certain  class  of  effusions,  which  his  exit 
would  probably  call  forth— adding,  ''  I  make  this  request  about 
as  much  for  your  sake  as  my  own."  He  had  then  survived 
three  or  four  of  these  dreadful  nocturnal  attacks,  but  observed 
that  he  could  not  calculate  upon  surviving  another.  In  an- 
swer to  the  question,  why  he  was  thus  affected  in  the  night, 
rather  than  the  day, — he  proceeded,  with  as  much  readiness 
as  if  it  had  been  the  study  of  his  life,  to  give  a  philosophical 
account  of  the  change  which  takes  place  in  the  body,  in  its 
transit  from  a  state  of  wakefulness  to  that  of  sleep.  "  Then," 
said  he, — that  is,  as  soon  as  the  will  resigns  its  power  over  the 
muscles  and  organs  of  the  body — "then  my  diseases  commence 
their  gambols !" 

To  his  daughter,  who  was  obliged  to  defer  a  contemplated 
undertaking  by  an  approaching  storm,  he  turned,  and  said  with 
a  smile — "  I  suppose  you  feel  as  if  the  equinox  ought  to  be 
deferred  on  account  of  your  school." 

Sept.  21.  "  O,  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is  to  lose  one's  will ! 
Since  I  have  lost  my  will,  1  have  found  happiness.     There 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  357 

can  be  no  such  thing  as  disappointment  to  me,  for  I  have  no 
desires  but  that  God's  will  may  be  accomplished." 

"  I  have  been  all  my  life  like  a  child  whose  father  wishes 
to  fix  his  undivided  attention.  At  first,  the  child  runs  about 
the  room, — but  his  father  ties  up  his  feet ;  he  then  plays  with 
his  hands,  until  they  likewise  are  tied.  Thus  he  continues  to 
do,  till  he  is  completely  tied  up  ;  then,  when  he  can  do  nothing 
else,  he  will  attend  to  his  father.  Just  so  God  has  been  deal- 
ing with  me,  to  induce  me  to  place  my  happiness  in  him  alone. 
But  I  blindly  continued  to  look  for  it  here,  and  God  has  kept 
cutting  off  one  source  of  enjoyment  after  another,  till  I  find 
that  I  can  do  without  them  all,  and  yet  enjoy  more  happiness 
than  ever  in  my  life  before." 

"  It  sounds  so  flat,  when  people  tell  me  that  it  is  just  for  God 
to  afflict  me,  as  if  justice  did  not  require  infinitely  more." 

He  was  asked,  '*  Do  you  feel  reconciled?" — "O!  that  is  too 
cold.  I  rejoice,  I  triumph!  and  this  happiness  will  endure  as 
long  as  God  himself,  for  it  consists  in  admiring  and  adoring 
him." 

"  I  can  find  no  words  to  express  my  happiness.  I  seem  to 
be  swimming  in  a  river  of  pleasure,  which  is  carrying  me  on 
to  the  great  fountain." 

Sabbath  morning,  Sept.  23d,  he  said, — '^  Last  night  I  had 
a  full,  clear  view  of  Death  as  the  king  of  terrors ;  how  he  comes 
and  crowds  the  poor  sinner  to  the  very  verge  of  the  precipice  of 
destruction,  and  then  pushes  him  down  headlong  !  But  I  felt 
that  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  this ;  and  I  loved  to  sit  like  an 
infant  at  the  feet  of  Christ,  who  saved  me  from  this  fate.  I  felt 
that  death  was  disarmed  of  all  its  terrors ;  all  he  could  do  would 
be  to  touch  me,  and  let  my  soul  loose  to  go  to  my  Saviour." 

'^  Christians  are  like  passengers  setting  out  together  in  a  ship 
for  some  distant  country.  Very  frequently  one  drops  over- 
board ;  but  his  companions  know  that  he  has  only  gone  a  short- 
er way  to  the  same  port ;  and  that,  when  they  arrive  there,  they 
shall  find  him ;  so  that  all  they  lose  is  his  company  during  the 
rest  of  the  voyage." 

*'  I  long  to  measure  out  a  full  cup  of  happiness  to  every 
body,  but  Christ  wisely  keeps  that  prerogative  in  his  own 
hands." 


358  MEMOIR  OF 

"  It  seems  as  if  all  the  bottles  of  heaven  were  opened ;  and 
all  its  fulness  and  happiness,  and,  I  trust,  no  small  portion  of 
its  benevolence,  is  come  down  into  my  heart." 

"  I  am  more  and  more  convinced,  that  the  happiness  of  heav- 
en is  a  benevolent  happiness.  In  proportion  as  my  joy  has 
increased,  I  have  been  filled  with  intense  love  to  all  creatures, 
and  a  strong  desire  that  they  might  partake  of  my  happiness." 

Sept.  26.  In  answer  to  some  complaints  of  one  of  the  fam- 
ily, he  said — "  Perhaps  there  is  nothing  more  trying  to  the 
faith  and  patience  of  Christians,  or  which  appears  to  them  more 
mysterious,  than  the  small  supplies  of  grace  which  they  receive, 
and  the  delays  which  they  meet  with  in  having  their  prayers 
answered  ;  so  that  they  are  sometimes  ready  to  say.  It  is  in  vain 
to  wait  upon  the  Lord  any  longer.  He  then  mentioned  the 
text,  "  Wherefore  gird  up  the  loins  of  your  minds,  be  sober, 
and  hope  to  the  end  for  the  grace  that  is  to  be  brought  unto 
you  at  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ."  A  large  portion  of 
the  grace  which  Christians  are  to  receive  will  be  given  to 
them  at  the  second  coming  of  Christ,  or  immediately  after 
death ;  and  this  will  always  be  in  proportion  to  their  prayers 
and  exertions  here.  Christians  need  not,  therefore,  be  dis- 
couraged at  the  slow  progress  they  make,  and  the  little  success 
which  attends  their  efforts  ;  for  they  may  be  assured  that  every 
exertion  is  noticed,  and  will  be  rew^arded,  by  their  heavenly 
Father." 

To  a  young  convert  he  said, — "  You  will  have  to  go  through 
many  conflicts  and  trials ;  you  must  be  put  in  the  furnace,  and 
tempted,  and  tried,  in  order  to  show  you  what  is  in  your  heart. 
Sometimes  ii  will  seem  as  if  Satan  had  you  in  his  power,  and 
that  the  more  you  struggle  and  pray  against  sin,  the  more  it 
prevails  against  you.  But  when  you  are  thus  tried  and  de- 
sponding, remember  me;  I  have  gone  through  all  this,  and 
now  you  see  the  end." 

To  another — "  You  recollect  the  story  of  David  rescuing 
the  lamb  from  the  lion  and  the  bear.  David  loved  the  lamb 
before  he  rescued  it  from  danger  ;  but  he  loved  it  more  after- 
wards. So  Christ  loves  all  his  creatures;  but  he  loves  them 
more  after  he  has  taken  them  into  his  fold,  and  owned  them 
as  the  purchase  of  his  precious  blood." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  359 

'*  Christians  might  avoid  much  trouble  and  inconvenience, 
if  they  would  only  believe  what  they  profess, — that  God  is  able 
to  make  them  happy  without  any  thing  else.  They  imagine  that 
if  such  a  dear  friend  were  to  die,  or  such  and  such  blessings  to 
be  removed,  they  should  be  miserable  ;  whereas  God  can  make 
them  a  thousand  times  happier  without  them.  To  mention  my 
own  case, — God  has  been  depriving  me  of  one  blessing  after 
another  ;  but,  as  every  one  was  removed,  he  has  come  in  and 
filled  up  its  place  ;  and  now,  when  I  am  a  cripple,  and  not  able 
to  move,  I  am  happier  than  ever  I  was  in  my  life  before,  or  ever 
expected  to  be,  and,  if  I  had  believed  this  twenty  years  ago, 
I  might  have  been  spared  much  anxiety." 

"  If  God  had  told  me  some  time  ago,  that  he  was  about  to 
make  me  as  happy  as  I  could  be  in  this  world,  and  then  had  told 
me  that  he  should  begin  by  crippling  me  in  all  my  limbs,  and  re- 
moving me  from  all  my  usual  sources  of  enjoyment ;  I  should 
have  thought  it  a  very  strange  mode  of  accomplishing  his  pur- 
pose. And  yet,  how  is  his  wisdom  manifest  even  in  this !  for 
if  you  should  see  a  man  shut  up  in  a  close  room,  idolizing  a  set 
of  lamps,  and  rejoicing  in  their  light,  and  you  wished  to  make 
him  truly  happy,  you  would  begin  by  blowing  out  all  his  lamps  ; 
and  then  throw  open  the  shutters,  to  let  in  the  light  of  heaven." 

'^  Suppose  a  son  is  walking  with  his  father,  in  whose  wis- 
dom he  places  the  most  entire  confidence.  He  follows  wher- 
ever his  father  leads,  though  it  may  be  through  thorns  and  bri- 
ers, cheerfully  and  contentedly. — Another  son,  we  will  suppose, 
distrusts  his  father's  wisdom  and  love,  and,  when  the  path  is 
rough  or  uneven,  begins  to  murmur  and  repine,  wishing  that 
he  might  be  allowed  to  choose  his  own  path ;  and  though  he 
is  obliged  to  follow,  it  is  with  great  reluctance  and  discontent. 
Now,  the  reason  that  Christians  in  general  do  not  enjoy  more 
of  God's  presence,  is,  that  they  are  not  willing  to  walk  in  his 
path,  when  it  crosses  their  own  inclinations.  But  we  shall 
never  be  happy,  until  we  acquiesce  with  perfect  cheerfulness 
in  all  his  decisions,  and  follow  wherever  he  leads  without  a 
murmur." 

After  it  had  become  certain  that  he  would  never  again  leave 
his  chamber  till  he  was  carried  out,  yet,  being  unceasingly  de- 
sirous to  benefit  his  people,  he  sent  a  request,  which  was  an- 
nounced from  the  pulpit,  that  they  would  repair  to  his  chamber. 
Once,  it  is  believed,  they  came  indiscriminately  ;  at  other  times 
in  specified  classes,  including  as  many  as  the  chamber  could 


360  MEMOIR  OF 

contain.  When  he  had  addressed  to  them  collectively  his  last 
most  solemn  and  affectionate  counsel,  till  compelled  to  desist 
by  the  failure  of  his  strength,  he  took  them  individually  by  the 
hand,  and,  with  a  heavenly  smile,  bade  them  farewell ! 

To  members  of  his  congregation,  he  spoke  nearly  as  fol- 
lows : — 

"  It  has  often  been  remarked,  that  people  who  have  been  in- 
to the  other  world,  cannot  come  back  to  tell  us  what  they  have 
seen  ;  but  I  am  so  near  the  eternal  world,  that  I  can  see  almost 
as  clearly  as  if  I  were  there ;  and  I  see  enough  to  satisfy  my- 
self, at  least,  of  the  truth  of  the  doctrines  which  I  have  preach- 
ed. I  do  not  know  that  I  should  feel  at  all  surer,  had  I  been 
really  there. 

*'  It  is  always  interesting  to  see  others  in  a  situation  in  which 
we  know  that  we  must  shortly  be  placed  ourselves;  and  we 
all  know  that  we  must  die.  And  to  see  a  poor  creature,  when, 
after  an  alternation  of  hopes  and  fears,  he  finds  that  his  disease 
is  mortal,  and  death  comes  to  tear  him  away  from  every  thing 
he  loves,  and  crowds,  and  crowds  him  to  the  very  verge  of  the 
precipice  of  destruction,  and  then  thrusts  him  down  headlong! 
— There  he  is,  cast  intoan  unknown  world  ;  no  friend,  no  Sav- 
iour to  receive  him. 

**  O,  how  different  is  this  from  the  state  of  a  man  who  is  pre- 
pared to  die.  He  is  not  obliged  to  be  crowded  reluctantly 
along ;  but  the  other  world  comes  like  a  great  magnet,  to  draw 
him  away  from  this  ;  and  he  knows  that  he  is  going  to  enjoy, 
— and  not  only  knows,  but  begins  to  taste  it, — perfect  happi- 
ness ;  forever  and  ever  ;  forever  and  ever  !      *     '^     *      *      * 

*'  And  now  God  is  in  this  room ;  I  see  him  ;  and  O,  how 
unspeakably  lovely  and  glorious  does  he  appear, — worthy  of 
ten  thousand  thousand  hearts,  if  we  had  them.  He  is  here, 
and  hears  me  pleading  with  the  creatures  that  he  has  made, 
whom  he  preserves,  and  loads  with  blessings,  to  love  him. — 
And  O,  how  terrible  does  it  appear  to  me,  to  sin  against  this 
God  ;  to  set  up  our  wills  in  opposition  to  his,  and,  when  we 
awake  in  the  morning,  instead  of  thinking,  "  What  shall  I  do 
to  please  my  God  to-day  ?"  to  inquire,  "  What  shall  I  do  to 
please  myself  to-day  ?"  After  a  short  pause  he  continued, 
**  It  makes  my  blood  run  cold  to  think  how  inexpressibly  mis- 
erable I  should  now  be  without  religion.  To  lie  here,  and  see 
myself  tottering  on  the  verge  of  destruction  ! — O,  I  should  be 
distracted  !  And  when  I  see  my  fellow-creatures  liable  every 
moment  to  be  reduced  to  this  situation,  I  am  in  an  agony  for 
them,  that  they  may  escape  their  danger  before  it  be  too  late. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  361 

When  people  repent,  they  begin  to  see  God's  infinite  perfec- 
tions, how  amiable  and  glorious  he  is,  and  the  heart  relents 
and  mourns  that  it  has  treated  him  so  ungratefully. 

"  Suppose  we  should  hear  the  sound  of  a  man's  voice  plead- 
ing earnestly  with  some  one,  but  could  not  distinguish  the 
words;  and  we  should  inquire,  '  What  is  that  man  pleading  for 
so  earnestly?'  *  O,  he  is  only  pleading  with  a  fellow  creature 
to  love  his  God,  his  Saviour,  his  Preserver  and  Benefactor.  He 
is  Oidy  pleading  with  him  not  to  throw  away  his  immortal  soul, 
not  to  pull  down  everlasting  wretchedness  upon  his  own  head. 
He  is  only  persuading  him  to  avoid  eternal  misery,  and  to  ac- 
cept eternal  happiness.'  '  Is  it  possible,'  we  should  exclaim, 
'that  any  persuasion  can  be  necessary  for  this?'  and  yet  it  is 
necessary.  O  my  friends,  do,  do  love  this  glorious  Being — do 
seek  for  the  salvation  of  your  immortal  souls.  Hear  the  voice 
of  your  dying  minister,  while  he  entreats  you  to  care  for  your 
souls." 

He  afterwards  said, — "  I  am  always  sorry  when  I  say  any 
thing  to   any  one  who  comes  in  ;  it  seems  so  inadequate  to 
^  what  I  wish  to  express.     The  words  sink  right  down  under 
the  weight  of  the  meaning  I  wish  to  convey." 

On  another  occasion, — "  I  find  no  satisfaction  in  looking  at 
any  thing  I  have  done  ;  I  want  to  leave  all  this  behind, — it  is 
nothing, — and  fly  to  Christ  to  be  clothed  in  his  righteousness." 

Again, — "  I  have  done  nothing  myself  I  have  not  fought, 
but  Christ  has  fought  for  me  ;  I  have  not  run,  but  Christ  has 
carried  me  ;  I  have  not  worked,  but  Christ  has  wrought  in 
me  ; — Christ  has  d^ne  all." 

The  perfections  of  God  were  to  him  a  well-spring  of  joy, 
and  the  promises  were  "  breasts  of  consolation,"  whence  his 
soul  drew  its  comfort  and  its  aliment. — "  O !"  exclaimed  he, 
*'  the  loving  kindness  of  God — his  loving  kindness !  This  af- 
ternoon, while  I  was  meditating  on  it,  the  Lord  seemed  to  pass 
by,  and  proclaim  himself  '  The  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merciful 
and  gracious  !'  O  how  gracious  !  Try  to  conceive  of  that, 
his  loving-kindness^  as  if  it  were  not  enough  to  say  kindness, 
but — loving  kindness.  What  must  be  the  loving  kindness  of 
God,  who  is  himself  infinite  love  !" 

"  It  seemed  this  afternoon  as  if  Christ  said  to  me, '  You  have 
often  wondered  and  been  impatient  at  the  way  by  which  I 
31 


362  MEMOIR  OF 

have  led  you  ;  but  what  do  you  think  of  it  now  V  And  I  was 
cut  to  the  heart,  when  1  looked  back  and  saw  the  wisdom  and 
goodness  by  which  I  had  been  guided,  that  I  could  ever  for  a 
moment  distrust  his  love.'' 

A  clergyman  from  another  state,  who  visited  Dr.  Payson 
about  this  stage  of  his  illness,  gave  the  following  account  of 
the  interview  in  a  letter  to  a  friend  : — 

"  His  eye  beams  with  the  same  animation  as  ever.  The 
muscles  of  his  face  are  unaffected  by  that  which  has  spread  all 
but  death  throughout  the  other  parts  of  his  system. — When  I 
entered  the  chamber,  addressing  me  with  a  smile,  he  said,  "  I 
have  no  hand  to  welcome  you  with,  but  I  am  glad  to  see  you." 
I  observed  to  him,  that  I  was  reluctant  to  lay  any  tax  upon  him 
in  his  present  weak  state,  but  had  felt  desirous  to  see  him  a 
moment.  He  replied  that  he  did  not  feel  parsimonious  of  the 
poor  remains  of  strength  he  had  left :  he  had  got  so  near 
through,  that  it  was  not  worth  while  to  be  solicitous  about 
saving  for  future  time.  He  conversed  in  a  low,  audible  voice, 
and  in  the  same  strain  of  pointed,  pithy  remark  as  when  in 
health.  He  observed,  that  the  point  in  which  he  believed 
ministers  generally  failed  most,  and  in  which  he  had  certainly 
failed  most,  was  in  doing  duty  professionally,  and  not  from  the 
heart.  I  could  not  but  say  to  him,  that,  probably,  his  practice 
had  been  marked  with  less  of  this  error  than  that  of  most  oth- 
ers. He  seemed  pained  with  the  thought  that  any  should  be 
more  deficient  than  he  had  been :  "  O,  I  hope  it  is  not  so  !  I 
hope  it  is  not  so  V  Referring  to  the  peace  which  the  gospel 
afforded  him  under  his  trials,  he  said,  "  I  have  never  half  val- 
ued, as  I  ought,  the  doctrines  which  I  have  preached.  The 
system  is  great  and  glorious,  and  is  worthy  of  our  utmost  ef- 
forts to  promote  it.  The  interests  depending  will  justify  us  in 
our  strongest  measures.  In  every  respect  we  may  embark  our 
all  upon  it ;  it  will  sustain  us." 

*  *         *  * 

"  Speakinty  of  the  temper  requisite  to  the  right  discharge  of 
ministerial  duty,  he  said,  "  I  never  was  fit  to  say  a  word  to  a 
sinner,  except  when  I  had  a  broken  heart  myself;  when  I  was 
subdued  and  melted  into  penitence,  and  felt  as  though  I  had 
just  received  pardon  to  my  own  soul,  and  when  my  heart  was 
full  of  tenderness  and  pity — no  anger,  no  anger."  He  ex- 
pressed himself  with  great  earnestness  respecting  the  grace  of 
God  as  exercised  in  saving  lost  men,  and  seemed  particularly 
affected  that  it  should  be  bestowed  on  one  so  ill  deserving  as 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  363 

himself.  "  O  how  sovereign  !  O  how  sovereign  !  Grace  is 
the  only  thing  that  can  make  us  like  God.  I  might  be  drag- 
ged through  heaven,  earth  and  hell,  and  I  should  be  still  the 
same  sinful,  polluted  wretch,  unless  God  himself  should  renew 
and  cleanse  me." — He  inquired  whether  I  could  preach  to  his 
people  on  the  morrow.  Being  told  that  I  was  not  well,  he  re- 
plied, "  Then  do  not  preach ;  I  have  too  often  preached  when 
I  was  not  able." 

"  On  taking  leave,  I  expressed  a  hope  that  he  might  con- 
tinue to  enjoy  the  presence  of  God,  and  receive  even  increas- 
ing peace,  if  he  could  bear  it.  "  O !"  said  he,  "  when  we 
meet  in  heaven,  we  shall  see  how  little  we  know  abo^it  it." 
His  whole  manner  and  appearance  is  that  of  a  man  who  has 
drunk  into  the  spirit  of  heaven  far  more  deeply  than  those 
around  him." 

October  7.  In  conversation  with  his  eldest  daughter,  on 
being  asked  whether  self-examination  was  not  a  very  difficult 
duty  for  young  Christians  to  perform,  he  replied,  "  Yes  ;  and 
for  old  ones  too,  because  it  is  displeasing  to  the  pride  of  the 
heart,  because  wandering  thoughts  are  then  most  apt  to  in- 
trude, and  because  of  the  deceitfulness  of  the  heart.  When  a 
Christian  first  begins  to  look  into  his  heart,  he  sees  nothing 
but  confusion  ;  a  heap  of  sins,  and  a  very  little  good,  mixed  up 
together  ;  and  he  knows  not  how  to  separate  them,  or  how  to 
begin  self-examination.  But  let  him  persevere  in  his  efforts, 
and  soon  order  will  arise  out  of  confusion." — She  mentioned 
to  him  a  passage  in  the  life  of  Mr.  Alleine,  which  led  him 
to  say,  "  We  never  confess  any  faults  that  we  consider  really 
disgraceful.  We  complain  of  our  hardness  of  heart,  stupidity, 
&bc.. ;  but  we  never  confess  envy  or  covetousness,  or  revenge,  or 
any  thing  that  we  suppose  will  lower  us  in  the  opinion  of  oth- 
ers ;  and  this  proves  that  we  do  not  feel  ashamed  of  coldness 
or  stupidity.  In  short,  when  young  Christians  make  confes- 
sions, unless  there  is  an  obvious  call  for  them,  it  usually  pro- 
ceeds from  one  of  these  three  motives ; — either  they  wish  to  be 
thought  very  humble,  and  to  possess  great  knowledge  of  their 
own  hearts  ;  or  they  think  it  is  a  fault  which  the  other  has 
perceived,  and  are  willing  to  have  the  credit  of  having  discov- 
ered and  striven  against  it ;  or  they  confess  some  fault,  from 
which  they  are  remarkably  free,  in  order  to  elicit  a  compli- 
ment. 

"  There  are  no  two  feelings  apparently  more  unlike  than 
mortified  pride  and  gratified  pride  ;  yet  they  are  in  reality  very 
similar ;  and  we  are  indulging  one  of  these  feelings  almost  con- 


364  MEMOIR  OF 

stantly.  When  God  permits  every  thing  to  go  on  very  smooth- 
ly, and  grants  us  some  comforts,  our  pride  is  gratified ;  we  are 
pleased  with  ourselves,  with  God, — and  call  the  feeling  grati- 
tude,— and  with  those  around  us ;  we  can  be  very  pleasant 
and  obliging.  But  let  this  state  of  things  be  reversed  ;  let  our 
corruptions  be  suffered  to  break  loose,  and  trials  and  conflicts 
to  assail  us, — then  our  pride  is  mortified ;  we  begin  to  fret  and 
repine,  and  say  that  all  our  endeavors  are  useless.  You  can- 
not yet  conceive  how  very  small  a  portion  of  grace  we  have;  so 
that,  if  we  doubt  whether  matter  is  infinitely  divisible,  we  can 
hardly  doubt  that  grace  is  so." 

"  With  regard  to  self-examination,  we  should  always  have, 
as  it  were,  our  eye  turned  inward,  to  watch  our  motives  and 
feelings.  We  should  also,  at  night,  review  the  conduct  of  the 
day ;  and  it  would  aid  you  to  do  this,  if  you  made  an  abstract 
of  the  duties  you  owe  to  God  and  to  your  fellow-creatures  in 
the  several  relations  of  life,  and  also  of  your  besetting  sins. 
But  the  most  important  direction  I  can  give  you,  is,  to  look  to 
Christ ;  for  while  we  are  contemplating  his  perfections,  we  in- 
sensibly imbibe  his  spirit." 

Notwithstanding  his  deep  seriousness,  there  was  occasionally 
a  pleasantry  in  his  manner  of  expressing  himself,  which  would 
excite  an  involuntary  smile  : — "  What  contrary  and  unreasona- 
ble creatures  we  are  !  The  more  God  does  for  us,  the  less  we 
thank  him.  Here  I  am,  stripped  of  more  than  half  my  bless- 
ings, as  we  ordinarily  estimate  them,  and  yet  I  never  felt  half 
so  grateful  to  God  before.  We  are  just  like  the  harlequin, 
when  hired  to  mourn,  of  whom  his  employer  said,  *  The  bet- 
ter I  pay  him,  the  more  he  won't  grieve  !'  " 

A  gray-headed  member  of  his  church,  who  is  usually  very 
abrupt  in  his  address,  but  generally  very  scriptural,  entered  his 
chamber  one  day  with  the  salutation — "  Watchman,  what  of 
the  night?" — **  I  should  think  it  was  about  noon-day" — was 
the  answer. 

On  Sabbath  day,  Oct.  7,*  it  was  the  privileged  lot  of  the 
young  men  of  the  society  to  assemble,  at  his  request,  in  his 
chamber,  when  he  addressed  them  in  substance  as  follows : — 

"  My  young  friends,  you  will  all  one  day  be  obliged  to  em- 
bark on  the  same  voyage,  on  which  I  am  just  embarking ;  and 

*  The  dales  in  this  chapter  fix  the  time  to  which  a  part  only  of  his  observa- 
tions must  be  referred ;  generally  the  first,  or  first  two  or  three  paragraphs,  which 
follow  thetn.     The  precise  date  of  most  of  them  is  not  recollected. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  365 

as  it  has  been  my  especial  employment,  during  my  past  life,  to 
recommend  to  you  a  Pilot  to  guide  you  through  this  voyage,  I 
wished  to  tell  you  what  a  precious  Pilot  he  is,  that  you  may  be 
induced  to  choose  him  for  yours.  I  felt  desirous  that  you 
might  see  that  the  religion  I  have  preached  can  support  me  in 
death.  You  know  that  I  have  many  ties  which  bind  me  to 
earth ; — a  family  to  whom  I  am  strongly  attached,  and  a  peo- 
ple whom  I  love  almost  as  well : — but  the  other  world  acts  like 
a  much  stronger  magnet,  and  draws  my  heart  away  from  this. 
Death  comes  every  night,  and  stands  by  my  bedside  in  the  form 
of  terrible  convulsions,  every  one  of  which  threatens  to  separate 
the  soul  from  the  body.  These  continue  to  grow  worse  and 
worse,  until  every  bone  is  almost  dislocated  with  pain,  leaving  me 
with  the  certainty  that  I  shall  have  it  all  to  endure  again  the  next 
night.  Yet,  while  my  body  is  thus  tortured,  the  soul  is  perfect- 
ly, perfectly  happy  and  peaceful — more  happy  than  1  can  pos- 
sibly express  to  you.  I  lie  here,  and  feel  these  convulsions  ex- 
tending higher  and  higher,  without  the  least  uneasiness ;  but 
my  soul  is  filled  with  joy  unspeakable.  I  seem  to  swim  in  a 
flood  of  glory  which  God  pours  down  upon  me.  And  I  know, 
I  know,  that  my  happiness  is  but  begun  ;  I  cannot  doubt  that  it 
will  last  for  ever.  And  now  is  this  all  a  delusion  ?  Is  it  a  de- 
lusion which  can  fill  the  soul  to  overflowing  with  joy  in  such 
circumstances  1  If  so,  it  is  surely  a  delusion  better  than  any 
reality.  But  no,  it  is  not  a  delusion  ;  I  feel  that  it  is  not.  I  do 
not  merely  know  that  I  shall  enjoy  all  this — I  enjoy  it  now. 

**  My  young  friends, — were  I  master  of  the  whole  world, 
what  could  it  do  for  me  like  this  1  Were  all  its  wealth  at  my 
feet,  and  all  its  inhabitants  striving  to  make  me  happy,  what 
could  they  do  for  me?  Nothing  ! — nothing.  Now,  all  this  hap- 
piness I  trace  back  to  the  religion  which  I  have  preached,  and 
to  the  time  when  that  great  change  took  place  in  my  heart, 
which  I  have  often  told  you  is  necessary  to  salvation ;  and  I 
now  tell  you  again,  that  without  this  change,  you  cannot,  no, 
you  cannot,  see  the  kingdom  of  God. 

"  And  now,  standing,  as  I  do,  on  the  ridge  which  separates  the 
two  worlds,  feeling  what  intense  happiness  or  misery  the  soul 
is  capable  of  sustaining  ;  judging  of  your  capacities  by  my  own, 
and  believing  that  those  capacities  will  be  filled  to  the  very 
brim  with  joy  or  wretchedness  for  ever ;  can  it  be  wondered  at, 
that  my  heart  yearns  over  you,  my  children,  that  you  may 
choose  life,  and  not  death  ?  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that  I  long 
to  present  every  one  of  you  with  a  full  cup  of  happiness,  and 
see  you  drink  it;  that  I  long  to  have  you  make  the  same 
choice  which  I  made,  and  from  which  springs  all  my  happiness  ? 


366  MEMOIR  OF 

"  A  young  man,  just  about  to  leave  this  world,  exclaimed, 
'  The  battle's  fought !  the  battle's  fought !  the  battle's  fought  1 
but  the  victory  is  lost  for  ever.'  But  I  can  say,  The  battle's 
fought,  and  the  victory  is  ivon  !  the  victory  is  won,  for  ever  !  I 
am  going  to  bathe  in  an  ocean  of  purity,  and  benevolence,  and 
happiness,  to  all  eternity.  And  now,  my  children,  let  me  bless 
you;  not  with  the  blessing  of  a  poor,  feeble,  dying  man,  but 
with  the  blessing  of  the  infinite  God.  The  grace  of  God,  and 
the  love  of  Christ,  and  the  communion  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  be 
with  all,  and  each  one  of  you,  for  ever  and  ever :  amen." 

Having  delivered  his  dying  messages  to  all  classes  among  his 
own  flock,  he  commissioned  a  ministering  brother  to  bear  one 
to  the  association  of  ministers,  who  were  to  meet  in  a  few  days. 
The  purport  of  it  was — *  a  hearty  assurance  of  the  ardent  love 
with  which  he  remembered  them  even  in  death ;  an  exhorta- 
tion to  love  one  another  with  a  pure  heart  fervently ;  to  love 
their  work,  to  be  diligent  in  it,  to  expect  success,  to  bear  up 
under  their  discouragements,  be  faithful  unto  death,  and  look 
for  their  reward  in  heaven.' — I  rejoice,  said  the  brother,  re- 
joice more  than  I  can  express,  to  be  the  bearer  of  such  a  mes- 
sage ;  for  you,  perhaps,  are  aware  that  many  of  your  brethren 
have  thought  you  distant,  and  reserved,  and  as  having  cherish- 
ed too  little  of  a  fellow-feeling  towards  them. — "  I  know  it," 
said  he ;  "  but  my  apparent  reserve  was  not  owing  to  any  want 
of  affection  for  them,  but  to  a  very  different  cause  :  I  have 
been  all  my  days,  like  a  soldier  in  the  forefront  of  the  hottest 
battle,  so  intent  in  fighting  for  my  own  life,  that  /  could  not 
sec  who  was  falling  around  jncJ' 

While  speaking  of  the  rapturous  views  he  had  of  the  heaven- 
ly world,  he  was  asked  if  it  did  not  seem  almost  like  the  clear 
light  of  vision,  rather  than  that  of  faith.  "  Oh !"  he  replied,  "  I 
don't  know — it  is  too  much  for  the  poor  eyes  of  my  soul  to 
bear  ! — they  are  almost  blinded  with  the  excessive  brightness. 
All  I  want  is  to  be  a  mirror,  to  reflect  some  of  those  rays  to 
those  around  me." 

"  My  soul,  instead  of  growing  weaker  and  more  languishing, 
as  my  body  does,  seems  to  be  endued  with  an  angel's  ener- 
gies, and  to  be  ready  to  break  from  the  body,  and  join  those 
around  the  throne." 

A  friend,  with  whom  he  had  been  conversing  on  his  extreme 
bodily  sufferings,  and  his  high  spiritual  joys,  remarked — "  I 
presume  it  is  no  longer  incredible  to  you,  if  ever  it  was,  that 
martyrs  should  rejoice  and  praise  God  in  the  flames  and  on  the 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  3(J7 

rack." — "  No,"  said  he,  "  I  can  easily  believe  it.  I  have  suf- 
fered twenty  times — yes,  to  speak  within  bounds — twenty  times 
as  much  as  I  could  in  being  burnt  at  the  stake,  while  my  joy 
in  God  so  abounded,  as  to  render  my  sufferings  not  only  toler- 
able, but  welcome.  The  sufferings  of  this  present  time  are  not 
worthy  to  he  compared  with  the  glory  that  shall  he  revealed^ 

At  another  time, — "  God  is  literally  now  my  all  in  all. 
While  he  is  present  with  me,  no  event  can  in  the  least  dimin- 
ish my  happiness ;  and  were  the  whole  world  at  my  feet,  trying 
to  minister  to  my  comfort,  they  could  not  add  one  drop  to  the 
cup." 

"  It  seems  as  if  the  promise,  ^'  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears 
from  their  eyes,"  was  already  fulfilled  to  me,  as  it  respects 
tears  of  sorrow.  I  have  no  tears  to  shed  now,  but  those  of  love, 
and  joy,  and  thankfulness." 

Oct.  16.  To  his  daughter, — '^  You  will  avoid  much  pain 
and  anxiety,  if  you  will  learn  to  trust  all  your  concerns  in  God's 
hand.  '  Cast  all  your  care  upon  him,  for  he  careth  for  you.' 
But  if  you  merely  go  and  say  that  you  cast  your  care  upon 
him,  you  will  come  away  with  the  load  on  your  shoulders.  If 
I  had  the  entire  disposal  of  your  situation,  and  could  decide 
how  many  scholars  you  should  have,  and  what  success  you 
should  meet  with,  you  would  feel  no  anxiety,  but  would  rely 
on  my  love  and  wisdom ;  and  if  you  should  discover  any  solici- 
tude, it  would  show  that  you  distrusted  one  or  the  other  of 
these.  Now  all  your  concerns  are  in  the  hands  of  a  merciful 
and  wise  Father ;  therefore,  it  is  an  insult  to  him  to  be  careful 
and  anxious  concerning  them.  Trust  him  for  all, — abilities, 
success,  and  every  thing  else, — and  you  will  never  have  reason 
to  repent  it." 

At  one  time,  he  was  heard  to  break  forth  in  the  following 
soliloquy  : — 

"  What  an  assemblage  of  motives  to  holiness  does  the  gospel 
present !  I  am  a  Christian — what  then  ?  Why,  I  am  a  re- 
deemed sinner — a  pardoned  rebel — all  through  grace,  and  by 
the  most  wonderful  means  v/hich  infinite  wisdom  could  devise. 
I  am  a  Christian — what  then  ?  Why,  I  am  a  temple  of  God, 
and  surely  I  ought  to  be  pure  and  holy.  I  am  a  Christian — 
what  then  ?  I  am  a  child  of  God,  and  ought  to  be  filled  with 
filial  love,  reverence,  joy,  and  gratitude.     I  am  a  Christian — 


368  MEMOIR  OF 

what  then  ?  Why,  I  am  a  disciple  of  Christ,  and  must  imitate 
him  who  was  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and  pleased  not  him- 
self. I  am  a  Christian — what  then  ?  Why,  I  am  an  heir  of 
heaven,  and  hastening  on  to  the  abodes  of  the  blessed,  to  join 
the  full  choir  of  glorified  ones,  in  singing  the  song  of  Moses 
and  the  Lamb  :  and  surely  I  ought  to  learn  that  song  on  earth." 

To  Mrs.  Pay  son,  who,  while  ministering  to  him,  had  observ- 
ed, "  Your  head  feels  hot,  and  seems  to  be  distended,"  he  re- 
plied— "  It  seems  as  if  the  soul  disdained  such  a  narrow  pris- 
on, and  was  determined  to  break  through  with  an  angel's  en- 
ergy, and,  I  trust,  with  no  small  portion  of  an  angel's  feeling, 
until  it  mounts  on  high." 

Again, — "  It  seems  as  if  my  soul  had  found  a  pair  of  new 
wings,  and  was  so  eager  to  try  them,  that,  in  her  fluttering,  she 
would  rend  the  fine  net-work  of  the  body  to  pieces." 

At  another  time, — '"  My  dear,  I  should  think  it  might  encour- 
age and  strengthen  you,  under  whatever  trials  you  may  be 
called  to  endure,  to  remember  me.  O  !  you  must  believe  that 
it  will  be  great  peace  at  last." 

At  another  time,  he  said  to  her, — ^'  After  I  am  gone,  you  will 
find  many  little  streams  of  beneficence  pouring  in  upon  you, 
and  you  will  perhaps  say,  *  I  wish  my  dear  husband  were  here 
to  know  this.'  My  dear,  you  may  think  that  I  do  know  it  by 
anticipation,  and  praise  God  for  it  now." 

"  Hitherto  I  have  viewed  God  as  a  fixed  Star,  bright  indeed, 
but  often  intercepted  by  clouds ;  but  now  he  is  coming  near- 
er and  nearer,  and  spreads  into  a  Sun  so  vast  and  glorious,  that 
the  sight  is  too  dazzling  for  flesh  and  blood  to  sustain."  This 
was  not  a  blind  adoration  of  an  imaginary  deity  ;  for,  added 
he,  "  I  see  clearly  that  all  these  same  glorious  and  dazzling 
perfections,  which  now  only  serve  to  kindle  my  affections  into 
a  flame,  and  to  melt  down  my  soul  into  the  same  blessed  im- 
age, would  burn  and  scorch  me  like  a  consuming  fire,  if  I 
were  an  impenitent  sinner." 

He  said  he  felt  no  solicitude  respecting  his  family ;  he  could 
trust  them  all  in  the  hands  of  Christ.  To  feel  any  undue  so- 
licitude on  their  account,  or  to  be  unwilling  to  leave  them  with 
God,  would  be  like  '  a  child  who  was  reluctant  to  go  to  school, 
lest  his  father  should  burn  up  his  toys  and  play-things,  while 
he  was  absent.' 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  369 

Conversing  with  a  friend  on  his  preparation  for  his  depart- 
ure, he  compared  himself  to  '^  a  person  who  had  been  visiting 
his  friends,  and  was  about  to  return  home.  His  trunk  was 
packed,  and  every  thing  prepared,  and  he  was  looking  out  of 
the  window,  waiting  for  the  stage  to  take  him  in." 

When  speaking  of  the  sufferings  he  endured,  particularly  the 
sensation  of  burning  in  his  side  and  left  leg,  he  said  that,  if  he 
expected  to  live  long  enough  to  make  it  worth  while,  he  would 
have  his  leg  taken  off.  On  Mrs.  Payson's  uttering  some  ex- 
pression of  surprise,  he  replied — "  I  have  not  a  very  slight 
idea  of  the  pain  of  amputation  ;  yet  I  have  no  doubt  that  I 
suffer  more  every  fifteen  minutes,  than  I  should  in  having  my 
leg  taken  off." 

His  youngest  child,  about  a  year  old,  had  been  under  the 
care  of  a  friend,  and  was  to  be  removed  a  few  miles  out  of 
town ;  but  he  expressed  so  strong  a  wish  to  see  Charles  first, 
that  he  was  sent  for.  The  look  of  love,  and  tenderness,  and 
compassion,  with  which  he  regarded  the  child,  made  an  indel- 
ible impression  on  all  present. 

At  his  request,  some  of  the  choir,  belonging  to  the  congre- 
gation, came  a  few  days  before  his  death,  for  the  purpose  of 
singing,  for  his  gratification,  some  of  the  songs  of  Zion.  He 
selected  the  one  commencing,  "  Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy 
wings ;"  part  of  the  hymn,  "  I'll  praise  my  Maker  with  my 
breath  ;"  and  the  "  Dying  Christian  to  his  Soul." 

Sabbath  day,  October  21st,  his  last  agony  commenced. 
This  holy  man,  who  had  habitually  said  of  his  racking  pains, 
*'  These  are  God's  arrows,  but  they  are  all  sharpened  with 
love" — and  who,  in  the  extremity  of  suffering,  had  been  ac- 
customed to  repeat,  as  a  favorite  expression,  "  I  will  bless  the 
Lord  at  all  times, ^^ — had  yet  the  "  dying  strife"  to  encounter. 
It  commenced  with  the  same  difficulty  of  respiration,  though 
in  an  aggravated  degree,  which  had  caused  him  great  distress 
at  intervals,  during  his  sickness.  His  daughter,  who  had  gone 
to  the  Sabbath  school,  without  any  apprehensions  of  so  sudden 
a  change,  was  called  home.  Though  laboring  for  breath,  and 
with  a  rattling  in  the  throat  similar  to  that  which  immediately 
precedes  dissolution,  he  smiled  upon  her,  kissed  her  affection- 
ately, and  said — "  God  bless  you,  my  daughter !"  Several  of 
the  church  were  soon  collected  at  his  bedside ;  he  smiled  on 
them  all,  but  said  little,  as  his  power  of  utterance  had  nearly 


370  MEMOIR  OF 

failed.  Once  he  exclaimed,  "  Peace  !  peace  !  Victory !  victo- 
ry !"  He  looked  on  his  wife  and  children,  and  said,  almost  in 
the  words  of  dying  Joseph  to  his  brethren — words  which  he 
had  before  spoken  of  as  having  a  peculiar  sweetness,  and 
which  he  now  wished  to  recall  to  her  mind — "  I  am  going,  but 
God  will  surely  be  with  you."  His  friends  watched  him,  ex- 
pecting every  moment  to  see  him  expire,  till  near  noon,  when 
his  distress  partially  left  him  ;  and  he  said  to  the  physician,  who 
was  feeling  his  pulse,  that  he  found  he  was  not  to  be  released 
yet ;  and  though  he  had  suffered  the  pangs  of  death,  and  got 
almost  within  the  gates  of  Paradise — yet,  if  it  was  God's  will 
that  he  should  come  back  and  suffer  still  more,  he  was  resign- 
ed.— He  passed  through  a  similar  scene  in  the  afternoon,  and, 
to  the  surprise  of  every  one,  was  again  relieved.  The  night 
following,  he  suffered  less  than  he  had  the  two  preceding. 
Friday  night  had  been  one  of  inexpressible  suffering.  That, 
and  the  last  night  of  his  pilgrimage,  were  the  only  nights  in 
which  he  had  watchers.  The  friend  who  attended  him  through 
his  last  night,  read  to  him,  at  his  request,  the  twelfth  chapter 
of  the  second  epistle  to  the  Corinthians ;  parts  of  which  must 
have  been  peculiarly  applicable  to  his  case. 

On  Monday  morning,  his  dying  agonies  returned  in  all  their 
extremity.  For  three  hours,  evc^ry  breath  was  a  groan.  On 
being  asked  if  his  sufferings  were  greater  than  on  the  preced- 
ing Friday  night,  he  answered,  *'  Incomparably  greater."  He 
said  that  the  greatest  temporal  blessing,  of  which  he  could  con- 
ceive, would  be  one  breath  of  air. — Mrs.  Payson,  fearing,  from 
the  expression  of  suffering  in  his  countenance,  that  he  was  in 
mental  as  well  as  bodily  anguish,  questioned  him  on  the  sub- 
ject. With  extreme  difficulty  he  was  enabled  to  articulate  the 
words,  "  Faith  and  patience  hold  out."  About  mid-day,  the 
pain  of  respiration  abated,  and  a  partial  stupor  succeeded. 
Still,  however,  he  continued  intelligent,  and  evidently  able  to 
recognise  all  who  were  present.  His  eyes  spoke,  after  his 
tongue  became  motionless.  He  looked  on  Mrs.  Payson,  and 
then  his  eye,  glancing  over  the  others  who  surrounded  his  bed, 
rested  on  Edward,  his  eldest  son,  with  an  expression  which 
said — and  which  was  interpreted  by  all  present  to  say,  as 
plainly  as  if"  he  had  uttered  the  words  of  the  beloved  disciple — 
*'  Behold  thy  mother  !"  There  was  no  visible  indication  of 
the  return  of  his  sufferings.  He  gradually  sunk  away,  till 
about  the  going  down  of  the  sun,  when  his  happy  spirit  was  set 
at  liberty. 

His  *  ruling  passion  was  strong  in  death.'  His  love  for 
preaching  was  as  invincible  as  that  of  the  miser  for  gold,  who 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  371 

dies  grasping  his  treasure.  Dr.  Payson  directed  a  label  to  be  at- 
tached to  his  breast,  with  the  words — Remember  the  words  which 
I  spake  unto  you  ivhile  I  was  yet  present  with  you  ;  that  they 
might  be  read  by  all  who  came  to  look  at  his  corpse,  and  by 
wiiich  he,  being  dead,  still  spake.  The  same  words,  at  the 
request  of  his  people,  were  engraven  on  the  plate  of  the  coffin, 
and  read  by  thousands  on  the  day  of  interment. 

His  funeral  sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Charles  Jen- 
kins, pastor  of  the  Third  Church  in  Portland,  from  2  Timo- 
thy, iv.  6,  7,  8 — 1  am  now  ready  to  he  ojfered,  &c.  "  The 
gates  of  this  Zion  mourn,"  said  Mr.  Jenkins,  in  his  introduc- 
tory paragraph  ;  '^  for  her  watchman  sleeps  in  death.  He  has 
^  finished  his  course.'  His  voice  has  ceased  for  ever  to  echo 
along  these  consecrated  walls.  We  beheld  him  descend  into 
the  dark  valley,  shining  with  new  and  more  heavenly  lustre. 
And  now,  completely  and  for  ever  escaped  from  the  damps  and 
darkness  of  earth  and  sin,  our  thoughts  delight  to  follow  him 
amidst  the  glories  of  that  pure  world,  where  *  they  that  are 
wise  shine  as  the  firmament,  and  they  that  turn  many  to  righ- 
teousness, as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever.'  We  have  stood  gaz- 
ing at  the  fiery  element  of  outward  suffering,  in  which  he  was 
borne  away,  until  all  has  vanished  ;  but  we  love  to  linger,  that 
we  may  catch  something  of  that  spirit,  that  made  him  "  joyful 
in  tribulation,"  and  triumphant  in  death.  The  living  image 
of  his  now  unconscious,  but  beloved  form,  is  fondly  cherished 
in  many  a  bosom ;  while  purer  affections,  and  livelier  faith,  be- 
hold him  wearing  a  crown  of  righteousness.  It  is  grateful  to 
recur,  in  melancholy  recollections,  to  the  past,  and  hang  again 
on  those  lips,  which  are  sealed  in  perpetual  silence.  More 
grateful  still  is  it  to  glance  forward,  on  the  strong  pinions  of 
hope,  to  a  future  meeting  and  an  eternal  union  with  him,  and 
*  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect.'  " 

After  having  gone  through  with  the  discussion  of  his  sub- 
ject, Mr.  Jenkins  thus  reverted  to  the  occasion  : — 

"  Such,  my  hearers,  are  the  nature,  the  objects,  and  the 
grounds  of  the  dying  believer's  assurance.  They  are  topics 
which  sort  with  the  spontaneous  reflections  of  every  serious 
mind,  on  an  occasion  like  the  present.  They  are  topics  which 
have  just  been  so  strikingly  exhibited  in  the  last  days  of  our 
dear  departed  friend,  that  every  thing  I  have  attempted  to  of- 
fer has  appeared  to  me  scarcely  other  than  the  accumulation 
of  "  words  without  knowledge."  Had  he  not  interdicted  me 
the  privilege,  I  would  gladly  have  let  his  death-bed  speak  in 


372  MEMOIR  OF 

this  illustration.  Instead  of  detaining  you  with  such  low  views 
on  those  lofty  themes,  I  would  have  lifted  you  up  from  the 
low  level  of  our  ordinary  thoughts,  by  repeating  some  of  those 
'  burning  words  and  breathing  thoughts'  that  his  departing 
soul  expressed.  And  even  now  I  may  not  be  denied  the  privilege 
of  exalting  the  grace  of  God,  by  repeating  a  few  of  his  expres- 
sions, indicating  the  nature,  objects,  and  grounds  of  his  assur- 
ance, as  he  stood  on  the  borders  of  two  worlds." 
#  #         *  * 

"  Surely,  he  who  could  utter  such  language  was  ready  to  he 
offered — he  had  fought  a  good  fight ;  he  had  finished  his 
course  in  triumph,  and  now  wears  the  victor's  crown  of  righ- 
teousness. His  *  witness  is  in  heaven  ;  his  record  is  on  high  ;' 
and  there  his  eternal  weight  of  glory  is  begun. 

'*  And  what  shall  I  say  more  ?  I  might  speak  of  his  gifted 
intellect — I  might  dwell  on  its  wonderful  powers  of  combina- 
tion ;  on  that  excursive  faculty,  which,  for  ever  glancing  from 
earth  to  heaven,  and  from  heaven  to  earth,  could  gather  the 
universe  around  him  in  aid  of  his  illustrations. — But  to  speak 
on  these  points  becomes  not  this  solemn  occasion.  He  would 
frown  on  the  attempt.  He  counted  all  these  *'loss  for  Christ." 
If  I  may  speak  of  his  character,  it  shall  be  that  character 
which  had  so  conspicuously  the  Christian  stamp.  In  this  re- 
spect, grace  made  him  great.  It  wrought  a  deep  work  in  his 
soul.  The  predominant  features  of  his  whole  mind,  for  many 
years,  were  high  spiritual  views,  and  deep  spiritual  feelings. 
These  tinged,  or  rather  were  the  element  of,  his  thoughts  and 
efforts.  His  natural  ardor  of  temperament  doubtless  affected, 
not  a  little,  his  religious  exercises.  It  gave  them  violence  and 
energy.  His  seasons  of  spiritual  elevation  were  heaven 
brought  down  to  earth.  His  seasons  of  religious  depression 
resembled  the  storms  of  autumn,  sudden,  dark,  threatening — 
leaving  a  serener  and  purer  sky,  but  betokening  that  winter  is 
approaching.  He  was  pre-eminently  a  man  of  prayer.  There 
was  in  his  prayers  a  copiousness,  a  fervor,  a  familiarity,  a 
reaching  forth  of  the  soul  into  eternity,  that  was  almost  pecu- 
liar to  himself;  and  that  told  every  hearer,  that  heaven  was 
his  element,  and  prayer  his  breath,  and  life,  and  joy.  As  a 
preacher,  it  is  easier  to  say  what  he  was  not,  than  what  he 
was.  He  was  eloquent,  and  yet  no  one  could  describe  his  el- 
oquence to  the  apprehension  of  a  stranger.  It  consisted  in  an 
assemblage  of  qualities  that  could  be  seen  and  felt,  but  not 
described.  He  did  not  preach  himself  His  subject  always 
stood  between  himself  and  his  audience.  Ah  !  I  will  not — I 
cannot  enlarge.     Let  the  thousand  voices  of  those,  who  have 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  373 

been  brought  to  the  knowledge  of  Christ  by  his  ministrations, 
tell  what  he  was  as  a  preacher. 

"  Shall  I  speak  of  his  loss?  To  this  religious  commu- 
nity it  is  great.  Few,  at  his  period  of  life,  have  left  an  influ- 
ence operating  so  widely  and  usefully  on  the  moral  and  relig- 
ious condition  of  men.  That  influence  has  gone  very  far.  It 
is  flying,  and  will  long  be  flying  among  the  winged  messen- 
gers of  salvation."  < 


Having  followed  this  distinguished  servant  of  Jesus  from 
the  commencement  to  the  termination  of  his  useful  career,  an 
extended  analysis  of  his  character  would  form  an  appropriate 
conclusion  to  the  book.  Such  an  analysis  was  contemplated, 
but  is  precluded  by  the  unexpected  size  to  which  the  volume 
has  already  grown.  The  omission  will  be  the  less  regretted, 
as  its  place  is  supplied  by  a  fuller  developement  of  facts,  from 
which  that  character  may  be  more  accurately  and  minutely 
known.  By  drawing  attention  to  a  few  points,  however, — 
which  will  be  stated  with  as  much  brevity  as  possible, — some 
erroneous  impressions  may  be  obviated,  and  the  benefit  of  a 
large  class  of  readers  consulted. 

His  physical  conformation  was  of  a  very  delicate  structure, 
extremely  sensitive  and  easily  excited,  ranking  him  beyond  all 
question  with  the  genus  irritabilc  vatum.  His  constitutional 
tendencies  were  strengthened,  and  his  sufferings  from  this 
source  aggravated,  by  his  lamentable  imprudence,  in  venturing 
on  a  course  of  severe  abstinence  and  protracted  mental  efforts, 
under  which  his  nature  sunk.  Here  w  as  the  great  error  of  his 
life.  To  censure  a  man  for  constitutional  infirmity  is  as  unjust 
and  inhuman  as  to  censure  him  for  a  bodily  deformity,  which  he 
had  no  agency  in  producing.  The  aggravation  of  natural  evils 
by  voluntary  acts  is,  however,  a  just  subject  of  animadver- 
sion.*  Nervous  irritability,  with  its  consequent  depression,  was 

*  It  is  not  easy  to  determine  how  far  a  man  is  accountable  in  a  case  like  this. 
There  is  a  general  propensity  to  pronounce  rash  and  cruel  judgment  upon  men 
thus  atfected  j  or,  what  is  worse,  to  treat  them  with  unfeeling  ridicule. — It  is 
some  apology  for  Dr.  Payson,  that  the  health  of  sedentary  men  had  not,  at  the 
time  of  his  error,  become  the  subject  of  much  attention  5  his  was  in  part  the  sia 
of  ignorance.  The  case  is  now  different.  Much  has  been  said,  and  much  writ- 
ten on  the  subject  5  and  there  is  in  the  Christian  Spectator  for  April,  1827,  an 
essay  on  the  Iiifluence  of  Nervous  Disorders  upon  Religious  Experience,  which 
ou^ht  to  be  read  in  connexion  with  this  Memoir. 

In  an  earlier  number  of  the  same  work,  (April,  1826,)  is  an  article  On  the 
Mutual  Infuence  of  the  Mind  and  Bodij, — an  inquiry  which  is  deserving  the  con- 
sideration of  all  who  would  judge  rightly  of  the  phenomena  that  are  sometimes 
witnessed  in  the  subjects  of  nc^rvous  affections.     We  quote  a  few  sentences : — 

32 


374  MEMOIR  OF 

an  ingredient  in  Dr.  Payson's  nature,  and  would,  without  doubt, 
have  been  equally  conspicuous,  and  vastly  more  disastrous  in 
its  effects,  had  he  lived  a  stranger  to  experimental  religion. 
Though  he  suffered  inconceivably  in  his  own  person  from  this 
cause,  yet  he  seems  to  have  had  it  so  far  under  his  control,  that 
it  seldom,  if  ever,  diminished  his  usefulness,  or  the  amount  of 
his  active  services,  or  was  attended  with  ill  effects  in  relation 
to  others.  He  was  not  incessantly  doling  out  his  complaints 
into  the  ears  of  his  fellow-creatures ;  he  kept  them  chiefly  to 
himself  He  was  too  wise  to  sue  for  sympathy  from  "  nerves 
of  wire." 

His  melancholy  never,  in  a  single  instance,  that  is  recollect- 
ed, brought  him  into  *  bondage  through  fear  of  death.'  He 
invariably  contemplated  an  exchange  of  worlds  with  compla- 
cency, as  a  desirable  event,  "  a  consummation  devoutly  to  be 
wished." 

As  rarely,  almost,  did  it  disqualify  him  for,  or  indispose  him 
to  any  official  labor,  which  was  demanded  by  the  state  of  his 
flock.  However  reduced  in  strength  or  depressed  in  feelings, 
he  was  quick  to  hear,  and  prompt  to  obey,  all  pastoral  calls  ; 
and  often  did  so  when  he  needed  to  be  in  his  bed,  and  under 
the  care  of  the  nurse  or  physician. 

It  never  rendered  him  unequal  to  the  most  sudden  and  try- 
ing emergencies  of  life.  He  could  meet,  with  the  utmost 
readiness,  any  demands  which  unexpected  and  distressing 
events  made  upon  him.  In  the  alarm  of  a  conflagration,  when 
confusion  of  mind  and  general  agitation  render  worse  than 
useless  one  half  of  the  endeavors  which  are  made  to  stay  the 
calamity,  and  rescue  property  and  lives  from  destruction,  he 
was  cool  and  collected,  and  a  most  efficient  helper.     In  time 

'^  All  these  feelings  are  not  in  such  cases  strictly  moral;  nor  are  we  accounta- 
ble for  them,  except  as  we  are  accountable  for  inducing  that  state  of  physical 
organization  from  which  they  result. — They  are  the  offspring  of  a  diseased  mind, 
and  cannot  be  shaken  off  whilst  the  physical  cause  remains.  Every  physical 
state  of  the  nervous  system  has  a  correspondent  state  of  mental  emotion  ;  and  to 
remove  the  latter,  the  former  must  be  changed.         *        *         * 

"  But  although  physical  causes  have  so  extensive  and  important  an  influence 
upon  the  mind,  though  they  so  often  weaken  and  disorganize  its  powers,  yet  ik) 
mental  diseases  are  so  little  understood  as  those  originating  in  a  physical  cause  ; 
none  excite  so  little  sympathy,  none  are  more  real,  and  none  give  rise  to  more 
exquisite  suffering.  The  unhappy  victim  is  perhaps  ridiculed,  or,  if  not  ridi- 
culed, passes  long  and  wretched  hours  in  tlie  miserable  world  presented 
through  the  medium  of  a  diseased  mind,  till  death  sweeps  him  and  his  sorrows 
to  the  land  of  forgetfulness ;  yet,  while  the  physical  cause  continues  its  influence, 
a  man  might  as  well  attempt  to  heap  Pelion  on  Ossa,  as  to  remove  from  his 
burdened  mind  the  pressure  of  distempered  imaginations.  Let  those  testify, 
upon  v>^hom  Dyspepsy  has  laid  her  leaden  hand,  quenching  the  tire  of  feeling 
and  imagination,  checking  the  flow  of  intellect,  and  haunting  Ihe  mind  with 
spectral  apparitions  of  unreal  evil." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  375 

of  war  and  public  calamity,  his  mind  was,  if  ever,  kept  in 
perfect  peace.  The  most  undisturbed  composure  and  resigna- 
tion were  apparent  in  him,  when  the  objects  of  his  dearest 
earthly  affections  were  languishing  and  undergoing  mortal  ag- 
onies before  his  eyes  ;  the  same  was  true  when  tortures  like 
those  of  the  rack  seized  and  convulsed  his  own  frame.  He 
has  been  known,  also,  to  walk  deliberately  up,  and  cut  the 
cord  by  which  a  suicide  was  suspended,  when  others,  of  firm 
nerves,  stood  gazing,  horror-stricken  at  the  spectacle. 

That  it  was  originally  his  calamity,  and  not  his  crime,  is 
further  evident  from  the  fact,  that  it  bore  upon  him  with  al- 
most insupportable  weight  at  some  times  when  faith  and  hope 
co-existed  with  it.  In  all  his  private  writings,  no  expressions 
have  been  found  indicative  of  a  more  keen  sense  of  suffering 
from  this  cause,  than  some  which  he  penned,  when  his  hope 
of  heaven  existed  to  a  degree  amounting  almost  to  assurance. 
"  This  oppressive  melancholy  cut  the  very  sinews  of  the  soul, 
so  that  it  could  not  throw  off  the  load." 

This  malady  may  be  regarded  as  having  reached  its  climax 
during  his  first  essays  as  a  preacher.  There  had  been  causes 
favoring  its  rapid  progress,  which  did  not  afterwards  exist. 
And,  notwithstanding  the  greater  subsequent  prostration  of  his 
health,  its  general  symptoms  wore  a  mitigated  aspect,  and  be- 
came less  distressing  from  year  to  year.  Some  short  seasons 
are  to  be  excepted  from  this  general  remark,  particularly  por- 
tions of  the  year  or  two  next  preceding  that  in  which  he  died, 
— when,  in  addition  to  his  extreme  weakness,  his  mind  was 
agitated  by  questions  of  great  moment  to  the  general  interests  of 
religion.  Though  his  light  was  obscured  by  a  temporary  cloud, 
yet  was  his  path,  in  an  emphatic  sense,  like  the  rising  sun, 
shining  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day.  Probably  there 
was  not  a  day  during  the  last  six  months  of  his  life,  in  which 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness  did  not  shine  upon  him  in  full-orbed 
splendor. 

As  there  are  ^  laws  pertaining  to  the  union  of  mind  and  body 
which  affect  them  in  common,'  it  is  a  matter  of  course,  that 
the  disorders  of  his  physical  frame  should  modify,  in  some  de- 
gree, the  exercises  of  his  mind  and  his  religious  affections. 
Hence  we  have  seen  him  writing  bitter  things  against  himself, 
for  causes  which,  with  a  different  temperament,  would  have 
given  him  little  uneasiness.  We  have  seen  him,  at  times, 
"  poring  so  closely  over  his  own  frame  of  mind,  as  scarcely  to 
be  able  to  lift  up  his  eyes  to  the  cross ;  or,  if  his  eyes  glanced 
that  way,  they  were  so  suffused  with  penitential  tears,  that 
they  saw  but  dimly  the  merit  of  the  Saviour's  blood,  the  com- 


376  MEMOIR  OF 

passions  of  his  heart,  and  the  freeness  of  his  salvation."  At 
one  stage  of  his  religious  progress,  he  seems  to  have  been  so 
anxious  for  happy  frames,  that,  without  being  conscious  of  it  at 
the  time,  the  obtaining  of  such  frames  was,  perhaps,  the  im- 
mediate end  of  his  offices  of  devotion ;  and  according  to  their 
state  he  graduated  his  hope.  As  those  were  joyful  or  gloomy, 
this  was  elevated  or  depressed. — This  error,  and  the  sore  chas- 
tisement which  he  suffered  in  consequence,  he  in  his  last  days 
held  forth  as  a  warning  to  a  near  relative,  whom  he  supposed 
to  be  in  danger  of  a  similar  mistake. 

His  religion  also,  in  his  own  view,  was,  for  a  time  at  least, 
tinged  with  romance.  This  resulted  from  his  ardor  of  temper- 
ament. "  By  religious  romance,"  he  once  said  in  conversa- 
tion, "  I  mean  the  indulgence  of  unwarranted  expectations  ; 
expectations  that  our  sins  are  to  be  subdued  at  once  in  some 
uncommon  way,  or  by  some  uncommon  means ;  just  as  a  man 
would  expect  to  become  rich  by  drawing  a  prize  in  a  lottery, 
or  in  some  other  hap-hazard  way.  We  cannot,  indeed,  ex- 
pect too  much,  if  we  regulate  our  expectations  by  the  word  of 
God  ;  but  we  may  expect  more  than  he  warrants  us  to  expect, 
and  when  our  unwarranted  expectations  are  disappointed,  we 
are  apt  to  sink  into  despondency.  Christians  whose  natural 
feelings  are  strong  are  most  liable  to  run  into  this  error.  But  I 
know  of  no  way  to  make  progress  in  holiness,  but  the  steady, 
humble,  persevering  practice  of  meditation,  prayer,  watchful- 
ness, self-denial,  and  good  works.  If  we  use  these  means,  our 
progress  is  certain." 

None  of  these  defects,  however,  entered  so  deeply  into  the 
character  of  his  religion  as  to  conceal  the  marks  of  its  genu- 
ineness, or  scarcely  to  obscure  them.  The  features  which 
proclaimed  its  heavenly  origin  and  its  heavenly  tendency,  were 
strongly  marked  and  abiding.  Almost  from  its  commence- 
ment, we  have  seen  hiin  habitually  discriminating  between 
*  the  real  and  the  imaginary,  the  scriptural  and  the  erroneous, 
the  precious  and  the  vile,'  in  his  own  religious  emotions.  He 
has  been  the  first  to  apply  to  them  the  only  infallible  test,  and 
the  first  to  detect  and  abjure  whatever  did  not  sustain  the  trial 
of  Scripture.  We  see  him,  in  reference  to  his  own  exercises, 
making  the  distinction  between  distress  of  mind  and  broken^ 
ness  of  heart,  and  between  other  affections  which  a  hypocrite 
or  a  deluded  man  would  be  certain  to  confound. 

Ardent  and  impassioned  as  was  his  religion,  it  is  neverthe- 
less a  noticeable  fact,  that  seldom,  if  ever,  did  an  expression  of 
the  workings  of  the  heart  towards  the  Object  of  his  supreme 
affections  escape  him,  even  in  private,  which  was  suited  to 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  377 

awaken  degrading  and  earthly  associations.  The  impression 
must  be  deeply  imprinted  on  every  reader,  that  the  intercourse 
which  he  maintained  with  God  was  a  holy  intercourse.  While 
he  was  filled  with  the  highest  admiration  of  the  condescension 
of  God,  and  talked  with  him  almost  with  the  same  familiarity 
with  which  a  man  addresses  his  friend  ;  it  was  still  with  the 
profoundest  reverence,  and  with  a  deep-seated  consciousness 
of  the  distance  between  the  Creator  and  the  creature — a  char- 
acteristic which  belongs  to  no  enthusiast. 

His  devotional  contemplations,  even  when  they  have  most 
the  appearance  of  extravagance,  differ  widely  from  the  reve- 
ries of  the  enthusiast.  He  is  no  where  seen  regarding  him- 
self as  the  only  creature  in  the  universe,  or  as  the  peculiar  fa- 
vorite of  heaven ;  nor  exulting  in  the  thought  of  being  saved, 
and  made  eternally  happy,  independently  of  the  medium 
through  which  salvation  is  effected.  He  saw  and  felt,  that  there 
were  interests  to  be  consulted  of  more  importance  to  the  uni- 
verse than  his  individual  happiness,  and  wished  to  be  saved 
in  no  way  which  would  put  these  interests  in  jeopardy.  If 
there  was  a  single  attribute  of  Jehovah,  which  he  contempla- 
ted with  more  exquisite  pleasure  than  any  other,  or  one  which 
he  desired  above  all  to  imitate,  it  was  holiness.  And  seldom 
did  his  thoughts  revert  to  this  perfection  without  an  earnest 
prayer  that  his  fellow  creatures  might  become  holy. — If  there 
were  ever  a  time  when  his  religion  might  be  mistaken  for  a 
"  moping  sentimentalism,"  or  a  '  monkish  religion,'  it  was 
while  he  pursued  in  solitude  his  studies  preparatory  to  the  min- 
istry ;  but,  even  then,  it  was  not  *  that  sickly  sensitiveness, 
which  serves  only  to  divert  attention  from  what  is  important  in 
practical  virtue.'  His  immediate  relations  to  his  fellow  men 
were  then  comparatively  few,  and  made  only  small  and  infre- 
quent demands  upon  his  time  and  attention,  and  sufficiently 
account  for  the  appearance  which  his  religion  then  assumed. 
But,  even  at  that  time,  he  does  not  seem  to  have  been  deficient 
in  relative  duty ;  and  when  duties  of  this  class  were  greatly 
multiplied,  he  was  a  pattern  of  fidelity,  punctuality,  and  per- 
severance. His  practice  of  all  the  moral  virtues  was  so  exact 
and  thorough,  that  the  bitterest  enemy  was  unable  to  detect 
any  delinquency.  And  with  a  heart  full  charged  with  benev- 
olence, he  was  ever  '  doing  good  to  all  men  as  he  had  opportu- 
nity, especially  to  them  of  the  household  of  faith.'  In  short, 
if  the  existence  of  true  religion  is  to  be  known  by  its  practical 
fruits,  we  know  not  the  man  who  could  sustain  a  closer  scruti- 
ny than  Dr.  Payson.  He  was  remarkably  free  from  one  class 
of  indulgences,  to  which  his  constitution  and  often  infirmities 
32* 


378  MEMOIR  OF 

must  have  predisposed  him,  and  to  which  he  must  have  been 
strongly  tempted  by  the  fashions  of  society,  when  the  use  of 
stimulating  drinks  was  common  in  all  circles,  and  the  glass 
was  tendered  almost  with  the  first  salutation.  But  he  kept 
himself  pure.  This  and  similar  facts  show  very  strikingly  the 
strength  of  religious  principle  in  his  soul,  and  how  much  he 
owed  to  divine  grace. 

The  faults  of  Dr.  Payson  were  of  a  kind  suited  to  make  an 
impression  altogether  disproportionate  to  their  moral  obliquity. 
To  a  stranger,  who  had  seen  him  but  once,  and  under  the  in- 
fluence of  those  agitated  and  desponding  feelings  with  which 
he  left  the  conference  room,* — and  there  were  two  or  three 
such  occurrences  in  the  course  of  his  life, — he  would,  probably, 
have  appeared  rash,  petulant,  and  unreasonably  severe  ;  and 
this  sudden  tide  of  disagreeable  feelings  would  have  been  taken 
for  his  general  character.  A  stranger  would  not  know,  what 
his  church  knew,  that,  by  the  time  he  had  reached  his  home, 
he  had  assumed  to  himself  the  blame  which  he  had  charged 
upon  them;  and  that,  the  first  opportunity,  he  would  meet 
them  with  subdued  feelings  and  the  humility  of  a  child.  A 
transient  observer  would  not  have  seen  the  influence  of  this 
step  on  the  church  ;  and  that  nothing  could  have  been  so  effec- 
tual to  produce  relentings  in  them,  and  bring  them  back  to 
their  duty,  as  the  reflection  that  they  had  so  deeply  grieved 
the  heart  of  him  who  was  ready  to  spend  and  be  spent  for  their 
salvation.  Mutual  confession  and  forgiveness  has  a  wonder- 
ful effect  in  softening  the  heart,  and  preparing  it  for  the  recep- 
tion of  divine  influences ;  and  never  had  mere  man  a  more 
exorable  and  forgiving  spirit  than  Dr.  Payson. 

Of  the  truth  of  this  last  remark,  there  is  the  most  abundant 
and  satisfactory  proof,  of  which  the  nature  of  the  case  will  ad- 
mit. He  did  not  pass  through  life  without  encountering  in- 
juries, which  were  aimed  at  his  dearest  and  tenderest  inter- 
ests ;  which  were  wounding  to  the  feelings,  and  would  have 
exasperated  a  man  less  under  the  influence  of  a  Christian  tem- 
per than  he.  Yet  not  the  remotest  trace  can  be  found  of  a 
vindictive  spirit.  In  this  he  evidently  endeavored  to  copy  his 
Divine  Model  throughout ;  '*  who,  when  he  was  reviled,  reviled 
not  again  ;  when  he  suffered,  threatened  not :  but  committed 
himself  to  him  who  judgeth  righteously."  The  writer  has 
been  curious  to  examine  his  closet-meditations  upon  the 
wrongs  which  were  inflicted  upon  him,  and  to  learn  what 
were  his  real  feelings  towards  those  from  whom  he  suffered 

*  Page  339. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  379 

maltreatment  and  abuse.  For  this  purpose,  he  has  directed 
his  attention  to  the  dates  of  such  as  occurred  within  his  own 
knowledge,  and  with  the  circumstances  of  which  he  was  fa- 
miliarly acquainted.  The  result  is  most  honorable  to  the  de- 
parted minister.  Of  some  no  trace  can  be  found ;  they  are 
buried  in  forgetfulness.  To  some  there  is  merely  an  allusion. 
Where  a  notice  of  them  was  unavoidable,  the  fact  is  mention- 
ed or  insinuated ;  but  rarely,  indeed,  is  it  accompanied  with 
reproach  or  censure.  The  comment  usually  is,  in  substance, 
"  Retired,  and  prayed  for  him  who  had  done  the  injury."  Such 
was  the  only  revenge  which  he  sought  of  the  mischievous  wag, 
who  awaked  him  at  midnight,  with  a  forged  request,  that  he 
would  visit  a  woman  alleged  to  be  dying.  Even  those  inju- 
ries which  were  aimed  at  his  reputation,  and  were  designed, 
by  affecting  his  character,  to  weaken  his  influence,  and  ob- 
struct his  usefulness,^  and,  therefore,  incomparably  more  griev- 
ous than  any  mere  personal  wrongs,  were  treated  with  no 
greater  severity.  Careful  as  he  was  to  record  his  own  sins 
and  failings,  and  severely  as  he  condemned  them,  the  instan- 
ces are  few  indeed,  in  which  he  passes  any  direct  censure 
upon  a  fellow  creature.  Always  bold  and  faithful  to  rebuke 
sin,  when  he  met  its  perpetrator  face  to  face,  he  was  equally 
tender  towards  the  guilty,  in  circumstances  where  severity 
could  do  nothing  towards  reclaiming  him.  The  sins  of  others 
he  had  no  wish  to  perpetuate.  He  seeks  forgiveness  for  them 
in  private  prayer,  and  spreads  over  them  a  mantle  broad 
enough  to  "  cover  a  multitude  of  sins."  How  deeply  learned 
must  he  have  been  in  the  school  of  Christ,  thus  to  '  love  his 
enemies,  to  bless  them  that  cursed  him,  to  do  good  to  them 
that  hated  him,  and  to  pray  for  them  who  despite  fully  used 
and  persecuted  him  V 

An  abhorrence  of  sin  cannot  have  failed  to  strike  every 
reader  as  a  prevailing  affection  of  Dr.  Payson's  heart.  It  is 
apparent  at  all  times  and  in  all  circumstances.  We  see  it  in 
the  records  of  the  closet,  and  in  his  pulpit  addresses.  It  was 
seen  by  those  who  met  him  in  social  intercourse,  whether  for 
ordinary  purposes,  or  for  religious  inquiry  and  conference ; 
and  especially  by  those  who  heard  his  confessions  and  prayers 
to  Him  who  hath  said,  "  O,  do  not  that  abominable  thing 
which  I  hate !"  It  was  in  its  relation  to  God  and  his  law, 
that  he  viewed  it,  and  learned  its  nature  ;  and  not  merely 
from  its  effects  on  the  well-being  and  happiness  of  man.  The 
guilt  and  pollution  of  sin  were,  beyond  expression,  hateful  to 
him.  He  dreaded  its  contamination  more  than  death — more 
than  he  did  the  gnawings  of  the  never-dying  worm.     Hell 


380  MEMOIR  OF 

itself  had  fewer  terrors  for  him  than  sin.  The  latter  was  his 
torment  and  his  grief;  but  how  rarely  was  he  troubled  with 
apprehensions  of  the  former  !  That,  he  freely  acknowledg- 
ed, he  deserved  ;  but  it  was  this,  which  filled  him  with  dis- 
tress. This  was  the  burden  of  his  private  lamentations ;  the 
foe  to  God  and  man  which  he  deprecated,  denounced,  and  ab- 
jured in  public,  and  against  which  his  solemn  warnings  were 
directed.  He  abhorred  it  for  its  guilt,  he  loathed  it  for  its 
degradation,  more  than  he  dreaded  the  misery  which  it  entails. 
It  was  the  *  wormwood  and  the  gall,  which  his  soul  had  contin- 
ually in  remembrance,  and  was  humbled  in  him.'  It  was  for 
this  that  he  abhorred  himself,  repenting  in  dust  and  ashes. 
On  account  of  sin,  he  daily  sorrowed  after  a  godly  sort  : — and 
"  what  carefulness  it  wrought  in  him"  to  watch  against  its  ap- 
proach ;  to  foresee  and  resist  temptations ;  to  seek  strength 
from  above,  that  he  might  be  preserved  from  falling ;  to  guard 
every  thought,  and  word,  and  act,  lest  he  should  prejudice 
his  Maker's  cause  !  or,  to  express  the  emotion  in  his  own  lan- 
guage, he  *  seemed  to  himself  to  be  walking  on  a  hair,  and 
hardly  dared  to  go  to  his  meals,  lest  he  should  say  or  do  some- 
thing that  might  disgrace  the  ministry  or  hurt  the  cause.of  re- 
ligion :' — "  what  clearing  of  himself"  from  all  consciousness 
and  all  imputations  of  allowed  sin,  so  as  to  draw  forth  the  ac- 
knowledgment from  the  most  abandoned,  that  he  was  a  man 
of  God,  and  make  it  safe  for  him  to  lodge  the  appeal  in  the 
consciences  of  his  flock,  "  Ye  are  witnesses,  and  God  also, 
how  holily,  and  justly,  and  unblamably  I  have  behaved  myself 
among  you  !" — "  what  indignation"  against  himself  for  hav- 
ing ever  been  rebellious,  or  for  having,  after  he  became  a  will- 
ing subject,  failed  to  glorify  God  in  all  things,  or  forfeited, 
even  for  a  moment,  the  approbation  of  his  Master,  and  the 
pleasures  of  a  good  conscience  ! — "  what  fear"  of  repeating 
the  transgression,  preferring  rather  to  die  than  again  to  offend 
his  God  and  wound  his  Redeemer  ! — "  what  vehement  de- 
sire" to  be  wholly  delivered  from  the  power  and  contamination 
of  sin,  his  soul  going  forth  in  ardent  longings  after  God,  or,  in 
his  own  language,  "  filled  with  insatiable  desires  after  holi- 
ness !" — "  what  zeal"  in  his  conflict  with  this  perpetually  an- 
noying enemy !  How  *  unfatigued  his  fervent  spirit  labored !' 
With  what  unsleeping  vigilance  and  skill  did  he  employ  the 
"weapons  of  the  holy  war,"  to  dislodge  the  foe  from  his  own 
heart  and  the  hearts  of  others,  that  the  Saviour  might  be  en- 
throned in  them,  and  sway  his  sceptre  over  them! 

Another  precious  mark  of  the  genuineness  of  his  religion  was 
his  bowing  with  entire  reverence  to  the  supreme  authority  of 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  381 

divine  revelation.  This  was  strikingly  apparent  from  the  time 
when  he  first  knew  its  value  by  experience,  by  his  making  it 
his  almost  exclusive  study,  as  a  preparation  for  preaching,  and 
by  his  daily  devotion  to  it  till  his  death.  He  had  no  favorite 
dogma,  no  figment  of  the  imagination,  no  theoretical  specula- 
tion or  practical  views,  which  he  was  not  ready  to  discard  at 
once,  if  they  were  seen  to  clash  in  the  least  with  the  Scriptures 
of  truth.  These  were  his  chart,  his  pole-star,  his  *  light  shi- 
ning in  a  dark  place,  to  which  he  did  well  to  take  heed.'  He 
opened  them  with  the  docility  of  a  child,  and  '  drank  in  the 
sincere  milk  of  the  word'  with  exquisite  relish.  To  him  they 
were  *  more  precious  than  gold,  sweeter  than  honey,  and  more 
highly  prized  than  his  necessary  food.'  And  in  this  love  and 
reverence  for  the  Scriptures  may  be  seen  the  reason,  why,  con- 
stituted as  he  was,  he  was  never  led  astray  by  the  pride  of  opin- 
ion, never  drawn  into  ensnaring  errors  by  his  salient  imagi- 
nation. Every  thought,  sentiment,  fancy,  and  opinion  was  daily 
corrected  by  the  word  of  God.  It  was  this  steadfast  adherence 
to  his  Rule,  that  kept  him  in  **  the  good  and  right  way." 

The  last  mark  of  the  genuineness  of  his  religion  which  will  be 
noticed,  is  his  perseverance.  Had  his  fervor  of  affection  aba- 
ted, and  left  him  in  a  state  of  apathy ;  had  he  let  down  his 
watch,  suspended  his  efforts,  and  ceased  striving  to  reach  ^  the 
fulness  of  the  stature  of  a  perfect  man  in  Christ  Jesus,'  this 
temporary  ardor  might  justly  have  brought  his  piety  under  sus- 
picion, as  being  nothing  better  than  a  species  of  religious 
wild-fire.  But,  as  it  has  been  well  remarked  by  a  late  writer, 
**  Where  there  is  no  error  of  imagination — no  misjudging  of 
realities — no  calculations  which  reason  condemns — there  is  no 
enthusiasm,  even  though  the  soul  may  be  on  fire  with  the  ve- 
locity of  its  movement  in  pursuit  of  its  chosen  object."  With 
the  velocity  with  which  he  had  commenced  his  race,  he  con- 
tinued to  move,  accelerated,  too,  by  the  momentum  which  he 
had  acquired  in  his  progress.  His  religion  was  *  the  water 
which  Christ  gives,  and  was  in  him  a  well  of  water,  springing 
up  into  everlasting  life.'  These  remarks  apply  to  his  perfor- 
mance of  particular  duties,  as  well  as  to  his  general  progress. 
One  of  his  own  precious  "  gems  of  thought"  will  here  be  introdu- 
ced to  illustrate  the  principle  upon  which  he  acted,  and  the 
principle  which  kept  action  alive,  not  in  one  mode  only,  but  in 
every  method  by  which  man  can  express  affection  for  the 
Saviour  : — 

"  It  has  been  frequently  wished  by  Christians,  that  there  were 
some  rule  laid  down  in  the  Bible,  fixing  the  proportion  of  their 


382  MEMOIR  OF 

property  which  they  ought  to  contribute  to  religious  uses.  This 
is  as  if  a  child  should  go  to  his  father,  and  say,  "  Father,  how 
many  times  in  the  day  must  I  come  to  you  with  some  testimo- 
nial of  my  love  ?  how  often  will  it  be  necessary  to  show  my  affec- 
tion for  you?" — The  father  would,  of  course,  reply,  *  Just  as 
often  as  your  feelings  prompt  you,  my  child,  and  no  oftener.' 
Just  so  Christ  says  to  his  people :  '  Look  at  me,  and  see  what 
I  have  done  and  suffered  for  you,  and  then  give  me  just  what 
you  think  I  deserve.     I  do  not  wish  any  thing  forced.'  " 

Here,  unquestionably,  is  the  measure  and  the  obligation  of 
Christian  duty,  which  he  endeavored  to  keep  continually  in 
his  own  eye.  He  loved  much,  for  much  had  been  forgiven 
him.  He  daily  looked  to  Christ,  and  saw  continually  increas- 
ing reasons  for  increased  love,  zeal,  and  duty.  His  '  religious 
emotions  were  strengthened  by  constant  exercise,'  and  the  ut- 
terance of  them  in  the  presence  of  his  heavenly  Father.  The 
constant  practice  of  duty  gave  him  increased  ability  for  duty. 
He  continued  his  approaches  to  the  throne  of  grace  through 
all  the  changes  of  his  afflicted,  joyful  life.  If  any  man  on 
earth  could  meet  the  challenge — *'  Will  he  always  call  upon 
God  ?" — that  man  was  Edward  Payson.  And  the  "  eternal 
sunshine"  which  began  to  settle  on  his  soul  before  it  left  the 
body,  is  evidence  that  he  was  heard  and  accepted. 

The  grand  means,  by  which  he  reached  his  distinguished 
eminence  in  piety,  and  *  persevered  therein  to  the  end,'  may  be 
learned  from  what  has  already  been  disclosed.  Much  more, 
however,  might  be  revealed  respecting  the  methods  which  he 
employed  to  "  bring  every  thought  into  captivity  to  the  obedi- 
ence of  Christ."  Circumstances  in  themselves  trifling  often 
have  important  influence  on  the  character ;  and  nothing  is  un- 
worthy of  regard,  which  helps  to  prevent  our  hearts  from  wan- 
dering from  God,  or  to  recall  them  when  they  stray,  or  to  keep 
alive  the  sense  of  our  religious  obligations.  When  there  are  so 
many  allurements  and  temptations  to  stray,  as  this  world  pre- 
sents, addressed  to  hearts  so  vulnerable  and  so  easily  deceived, 
it  is  well  to  have  a  monitor  in  every  object  we  behold ;  to  make 
inanimate  things  our  counsellors ;  to 

"  Find  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running-  brooks, 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  every  thing  5" 

till  all  parts  of  creation  become  preachers  of  righteousness. 
He  who  can  thus  habitually  associate  religious  considerations 
with  the  "  things  that  are  seen,"  enjoys  a  rational  satisfaction 
at  the  same  time  that  he  cultivates  a  spirit  of  devotion.     But 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  3g3 

those  who  find  it  difficult  thus  to  read  the  book  of  nature,  may 
derive  a  useful  hint  from  another  practice  of  Dr.  Payson.  On 
the  waste  leaf  of  several  numbers  of  his  journal  are  maxims, 
rules,  admonitions,  or  choice  sentiments,  which  appear  to  be 
intended  to  remind  him,  every  time  he  should  take  up  the 
volume  to  make  an  entry,  of  some  obligation,  or  to  serve  as 
a  stimulus  to  duty  in  some  one  of  his  important  relations.  The 
value  of  such  mementos  is  incalculable,  and  within  the  reach 
of  all.     It  may  be  useful  to  transcribe  a  specimen  : — 

"  Rutherford  remarks, — *  I  have  set  apart  some  time,  morn- 
ing, noon,  and  night,  for  prayer,  reading  the  Scriptures,  med- 
itation, &c. : 

*  I  have  endeavored  to  mingle  thoughts  on  serious  subjects 
with  other  employments  : 

*  To  watch  against  wandering  thoughts  in  secret  prayer  : 

*  Never  to  murmur  that  I  did  not  enjoy  sensible  comfort  in 
prayer : 

*  To  spend  the  whole  of  the  Lord's  day  in  public  and  private 
devotion : 

*  To  avoid  all  idle  words,  and  thoughts,  and  sudden  passion : 

*  Especially  to  avoid  sinning  against  light  in  the  most  trivial 
affair,  as  nothing  has  a  more  powerful  tendency  to  harden  the 
heart.'." 

*^  An  eminent  saint,  now  in  heaven,  remarked  as  follows : — 

*  Now,  at  the  close  of  life,  my  conscience  reproaches  me — 
For  not  doing  every  thing,  however  small,  with  a  view  to  the 
divine  glory : 

*  That  I  have  not  been  more  careful  to  spend  time  profit- 
ably in  company  : 

*  That  I  have  not  been  affected  with  the  distresses  of  others  : 

*  That  I  have  not  been  duly  humbled  for  the  sins  of  my 
youth.' " 

"  If  the  end  of  one  mercy  were  not  the  beginning  of  another, 
we  were  undone." 

The  following,  from  Flavel  and  Baxter,  were  for  his  con- 
sideration as  a  minister  : — 

"  Jesus  was  a  tender-hearted  minister,  a  faithful  minister,  a 
laborious,  painful  minister,  a  minister  who  delighted  in  the 
siiccess  of  his  ministry,  a  minister  v/ho  lived  up  to  his  doctrine, 
■d.  minister  who  maintained  communion  with  God." 


384  MEMOIR  OF 

"  I  have  long  observed,  that  though  ministers  use  words  and 
arguments  ever  so  persuasive  and  convincing,  yet,  if  they  think 
all  their  care  is  over  as  soon  as  the  sermon  is  delivered,  pre- 
tending they  have  done  their  duty,  and  that  the  event  is  God's, 
they  seldom  prosper  in  their  labors ;  but  those  whose  heart 
is  set  on  the  success  of  their  work,  who  earnestly  inquire  how 
it  speeds,  and  who  follow  up  their  public  labors  with  prayer 
and  private  exhortation,  are  usually  blessed  and  owned  in  their 
work." 

He  had  still  another  class  of  maxims,  which  show  his  con- 
scientious regard  to  "whatsoever  things  are  lovely  and  of  good 
report." 

The  preceding  pages  contain  a  tolerably  complete — perhaps 
too  complete — exhibition  of  Dr.  Payson's  religious  character. 
It  has  been  found  a  very  serious  and  difficult  question,  how  far 
it  is  justifiable  to  submit  to  the  inspection  of  good  and  bad, 
indiscriminately,  the  records  of  one's  private  exercises,  which 
were  not  intended  to  be  seen  out  of  the  closet.  As  religion 
is  so  much  the  business  of  the  closet,  it  is  obvious,  that  no 
man's  religious  character  can  be  fully  developed,  without 
exhibiting  the  transactions  of  that  sacred  retreat.  Disclosures 
of  this  class  have  been  highly  prized  by  the  Christian  community 
generally ;  and  God  himself  seems  to  have  set  the  seal  of  his 
approbation  upon  them,  by  rendering  them  the  frequent  occasion 
of  exciting  and  cherishing  religious  affections.  These  con- 
siderations have  done  much  to  quiet  the  misgivings,  which 
were  occasionally  felt  on  exposing,  as  it  were,  to  the  public 
gaze,  the  recesses  of  a  heart  so  deeply  and  variously  affected 
as  was  that  of  the  subject  of  this  Memoir.  It  is  hoped,  how- 
ever, that  there  is  no  wanton  exposure.  The  author's  first 
care  has  been  to  give  an  honest,  faithful  history  ;  and  he  is 
not  aware  that  any  deductions  or  abatements  from  the  com- 
mendatory part  need  to  be  made  on  the  ground  of  personal 
friendship  or  partiality,  or  that  any  lack  of  censure  needs  to  be 
supplied  for  similar  reasons.  Rather  has  he  feared  that  his 
anxiety  to  copy  scriptural  models,  which  describe  the  faults 
of  good  men  with  the  same  unshrinking  fidelity  that  they  em- 
balm their  virtues,  may  have  led  him  to  throve  too  much  of 
shade  into  the  picture,  to  dwell  at  disproportionate  length  on 
those  points  which  cannot  be  contemplated  without  sadness. 
The  several  parts  of  the  work,  however,  will  be  found,  not- 
v/ithstanding  their  apparently  miscellaneous  character,  to  have 
an  intimate  relation  to  the  whole,  and  to,  reciprocally,  modify 
and  explain  each  other. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  385 

The  query  will  perhaps  arise,  Why,  if  Dr.  Payson  intended 
his  diary  should  never  be  read,  did  he  not  destroy  it  previous 
to  his  death  ?  His  procedure  in  regard  to  his  manuscript 
sermons  suggests  a  possible  reason.  It  w^as  for  a  long  time 
his  settled  purpose  never  to  allow  one  to  be  published  ;  and, 
after  it  became  certain  that  he  could  no  longer  use  them  in 
public,  he  actually  set  about  their  immolation.  They  were 
reprieved  from  the  fla'^nes,  for  a  season,  at  the  almost  forcible 
interposition  of  his  family.  As  the  time  of  his  departure  ap- 
proached, the  glories  of  heaven  and  the  value  of  the  soul 
appeared  so  transcendent,  that  he  became  wholly  indifferent 
to  literary  reputation  and  worldly  fame,  and  gave  his  consent 
to  the  publication  of  a  portion  of  his  discourses,  if  it  should  be 
thought  expedient,  or  would  be  beneficial  to  men.  He  was 
now  perfectly  willing  to  become  ^'  a  fool  for  Christ's  sake."  A 
similar  change  might  have  taken  place  in  regard  to  the  diary  ; 
though  it  is  more  probable  that  he  expected  it  would  never 
be  read.  The  key  he  had  imparted  to  no  one ;  and,  though 
he  was  aware  that  it  had  been  partially  discovered — for  occa- 
sionally, but  unconsciously  to  himself,  a  word  in  his  alphabet 
found  its  way  into  his  friendly  epistles,  and  its  import  was 
determined  by  the  connexion,  and  then  the  sounds  or  letters, 
which  the  characters  represented,  were  easily  ascertained  ; — yet 
he  probably  thought  no  one  would  have  the  curiosity  or  pa- 
tience to  try  it  throughout,  especially  as  his  manner  of  applying 
it  is  not  the  same  in  every  volume. 

It  may  be  regarded  as  an  inexcusable  omission  not  to 
glance  at  his  intellectual  qualities,*  in  connexion  with  the  great 

*  It  was  intimated  to  the  compiler  by  a  friend,  during  the  progress  of  the  sec- 
ond edition  of  this  work  through  the  press,  that  but  partial  justice  had  been 
awarded  to  Dr.  Payson,  in  what  was  said  of  his  intellectual  character  and  clas- 
sical attainments,  while  a  member  of  college.  The  intimation  was  accompa- 
nied with  a  reference  to  an  authentic  source  of  information — a  source  to  which 
he  now  wonders  that  it  had  not  sooner  occurred  to  him  to  apply.  The  result  of 
his  late  application  was  the  following  very  satisfactory  letter,  which,  much  to 
his  regret,  cannot  now  be  incorporated  with,  and  made  to  modify,  that  part  of 
the  narrative  to  which  it  belongs  : — 

"  Wethersfidd,  June  18, 1830. 
"  My  dear  Brother, 

"  In  compliance  with  your  request,  I  suggest  a  few  hints  relating  to  a  part 
of  the  college-life  of  the  dear  and  nmch  lamented  Payson.  For  the  two  last 
years,  I  was  one  of  his  tutors — indeed,  his  particular  tutor.  That  particularity, 
however,  was  little  more  than  nominal,  predicated  upon  a  weekly  recitation  in 
history.  Not  more  than  one  third  of  his  literary  performances  were  in  my  pres- 
ence.   His  principal  recitations  to  me  were  in  geometry  and  natural  philosophy. 

''All  the  favorable  testimonies  which  your  excellent  Memoir  contains,  relat- 
ing to  his  college-life,  are  unquestionably  correct;  and  I  cannot  but  think,  that 
he  was  ''regarded  as" "more  than  a  decent  scholar  by  his  associates  and 
teachers  generally."  His  class-mate,  the  Rev.  Mr.  K.  of  Ipswich,  agrees  with 
me  in  ranking  him  among  the  best  quarter  of  his  class.     Mr.  K.  is  confident 

33 


386  MEMOIR  OF 

purposes  for  which  he  employed  them.  This  may  be  done  by 
introducing  an  extract,  addressed  to  his  church  and  congrega- 
tion at  the  installation  of  his  successor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Tyler, 
by  President  Allen  : — 

"  His  vigorous  intellect  could  grasp  high  subjects.  Nor 
was  his  knowledge  limited  to  one  department.  It  had  a 
wide  range,  as  his  curiosity  was  insatiable,  and  his  acquisi- 
tions made  with  the  utmost  rapidity.  But  from  all  the  fields 
of  science  he  brought  illustrations  of  the  great  principles  of 
religion,  which  it  was  his  business  and  delight  to  communi- 
cate to  his  fellow  men. 

"Among  the  valuable  qualities,  with  which  it  pleased  the 
great  Author  of  his  mind  to  endow  him,  fancy  or  imagination 
was  very  conspicuous,  and  very  important.  This  essence  of 
the  poet  belonged  to  him  in  a  high  degree.  If  there  are,  among 
preachers  of  the  gospel,  men  of  strong  intellect  and  close 
argument,  who  reason  with  great  force,  without  deriving  any 
aid  from  the  imaginative  faculty  ;  yet  such  was  not  the  charac- 
teristic of  his  preaching.  Nor  am  I  persuaded  that  the  high- 
est powers  of  reasoning  on  moral  subjects  can  be  separated 
from  the  resources  of  a  well-stored  fancy.  In  mathematical 
reasoning,  which  is  founded  wholly  on  definitions,  or  a  few 
expressed  conceptions  or  notions,  the  process  is  indeed  to  be 
carried  on,  as  the  smith  makes  a  chain,  by  adding  link  to  link. 
The  argument  is  uniform,  and  of  one  material.  There  is  no 
place  for  illustrations  ;  no  opportunity  for  the  colorings  of 
fancy. 

"  But  if  we  reason  on  moral  subjects,  the  case  is  very  differ- 
ent. We  do  not  set  out  with  clear,  unquestioned  definitions, 
and  adequate  notions.  Our  very  conceptions  of  spiritual  truths 
must  be  aided  by  means  of  the  objects  presented  to  our  sen- 
ses. The  imagination  must  assist  the  intellect.  Without 
this  imaginative  faculty,  this  power  of  comparing  different  ob- 
jects, of  perceiving  the  analogies  of  the  universe,  I  do  not 

that  a  forensic  disputation,  a  very  lionorable  part,  was  assigned  to  hini  for  per- 
formance at  commencement ;  which  failed  in  consequence  of  the  indisposition 
of  his  much  respected  associate,  now  the  Rev.  Dr.  W. 

"Is  it  not  injurious  to  the  cause  of  Hterary  improvement,  that  thepupilag-e  of 
such  a  man  as  Dr.  Payson  should  be  represented  as  manifesting  no  more  than 
ordinary  scholarship  ?  As  far  as  a  pretty  extensive  observation  has  enabled  me 
to  judge,  the  college  standing  of  students  is,  in  general,  a  good  index  of  their  re- 
spectability the  rest  of  their  days. 

"  With  regard  to  Dr.  P.'s  religious  experience,  the  probability  seems  very 
strong,  that  he  first  tasted  the  immortal  fountain  at  Portland.     I  cannot  find  the 
least  evidence  of  any  fruits  of  evangelical  holiness  before  the  year  1804  or  1805. 
"  Respectfully  yours,  J.  E." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  387 

know  how  we  can  form  the  best  notions  of  the  divine  attri- 
butes ;  and  sure  I  am,  that  without  this  faculty  we  are  ill  qual- 
ified to  be  teachers  of  others,  and  must  be  very  deficient  in  the 
power  of  rousing  the  sluggish  attention,  of  aiding  the  efforts  of 
the  weak  intellect,  of  irradiating  the  cloudy  conception,  and  of 
strengthening  the  vision  for  the  view  of  the  distant  and  the  ob- 
scure. Our  Master  and  Teacher,  the  great  Author  and  Finisher 
of  our  faith,  very  frequently  illustrated  spiritual  things  by  means 
of  material  objects,  and  has  shown  us  how  to  make  Nature,  as 
she  should  be,  the  handmaid  of  Religion.  Dr.  Payson,  from 
the  ample  storehouse  of  his  fancy,  often  brought  forth  images 
and  symbols,  enabling  him  to  exhibit  clearly  his  conceptions, 
which  might  otherwise  have  been  unintelligible,  and  to  trans- 
port his  hearers,  as  it  were,  in  spite  of  themselves,  to  the  deep 
and  never-opened  prison,  where  is  weeping,  wailing,  and  gnash- 
ing of  teeth, — and  also  to  the  bright,  and  pure,  and  all-glori- 
ous presence  of  God,  and  to  the  immediate  glance  of  that  all- 
piercing  eye,  from  which  iniquity  shrinketh  away  in  terror  and 
horror. 

"  Other  elements  are  yet  to  be  considered  in  estimating  his 
power  as  a  preacher.  It  was  not  merely  that  his  mind  was 
active  and  strong,  and  that  he  could  scatter  the  radiance  of  an 
unequalled  fancy  over  the  abstrusest  conceptions,  and  mingle 
delight  with  instruction.  In  addition  to  this,  his  power  as  a 
preacher  was  the  power  of  his  own  deep-seated  conviction  of 
the  infinite  importance  of  the  truths  which  he  communicated, 
and  of  the  realities  of  the  invisible  world,  which  he  described; 
— the  power  of  ardent,  unquestioned  piety. 

"  His  eloquence  was  very  different  from  studied  oratory. 
There  was  no  elegance  of  gesture,  and  no  display.  Yet  the 
deep  tones  of  his  voice,  uttering  tremendous  warnings,  were 
calculated  to  startle  the  secure,  while  the  blessed  promises  of  the 
gospel  came  from  his  lips  in  the  mild  and  gladdening  accents 
of  one  whose  soul  rejoiced  in  God  his  Saviour." 

Scarcely  an  individual  has  ever  been  heard  to  speak  of  Dr. 
Payson's  intellectual  qualities,  who  did  not  fix  upon  imao-ina- 
tion  as  the  predominant  characteristic  in  the  structure  of  his 
mind ;  and  it  is  often  referred  to  as  a  simple  faculty,  involvino" 
the  exercise  of  no  other  powers.  A  distinct  and  lively  percep- 
tion of  truths  and  objects,  a  power  of  comparison,  abstraction, 
and  combination,  are  essential  constituents  of  this  faculty,  as 
it  exists  in  the  poet ;  and  such  was  it  in  him.  If  he  had  de- 
voted himself  to  the  Muses,  he  might  have  taken  a  high  rank 
among  the  ''  sons  of  song."     As  it  was,  the  inspiration  of  poe- 


388  MEMOIR  OF 

try  pervades  his  moral  and  religious  discussions,  and  in  a  mcin- 
ner  altogether  as  agreeable,  and  far  more  useful,  than  if  it  werf3 
presented  in  measured  lines.  His  imagination  was  under  the 
control  of  judgment,  and  entirely  subservient  to  the  objects  he 
had  in  view.  It  was  never  employed  to  excite  wonder,  but  always 
to  convey  instruction.  Its  boldest  flights  disclose  a  very  exact 
and  delicate  perception  of  the  relations  of  different  subjects  ; 
and  his  selection  of  the  circumstances  for  comparison,  a  most 
discriminating  judgment.  Of  all  the  ten  thousand  illustrations 
of  moral  and  religious  truths,  with  which  this  faculty  supplied 
him,  scarcely  one  failed  of  being  a  type, — I  had  almost  said,  a 
perfect  type  or  representation  of  the  idea  or  impression  which 
he  wished  to  convey.*  It  brought  full  satisfaction  to  the  mind 
of  the  hearer.  He  felt  that  he  knew  what  was  thus  taught 
him. 

Some  have  supposed,  that  he  employed  analogies  and  the 
creations  of  fancy  as  the  means  of  investigating  truth ;  that  is — 
if  I  understand  their  meaning — that,  supposing  *  truth  to  lie  in 
a  well,'  his  imagination  fitted  up  a  sort  of  machinery  to  draw 
it  out.  But  this  is  a  mistake  :  he  had,  like  others,  to  dive  or 
dig  for  it.  He  had  early  imbibed  the  maxim,  *  There  is  no 
royal  road  to  knowledge  ;'  and  felt  its  application  to  theology,  as 
well  as  to  *  geometry.'  His  acquisitions  were  made  by  close 
and  prayerful  investigation.  Too  much  has  been  ascribed 
to  his  genius,  and  too  little  to  his  industry.  His  native  talents 
were  indeed  of  a  high  order,  but  they  were  strengthened  by  cul- 
tivation and  exercise.  His  ardor  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge 
never  abated ;  his  acquisitions  were  constantly  accumulating. 
It  was  by  continually  extending  his  acquaintance  with  God's 
world,  and  the  creatures  who  inhabit  it,  that  he  procured  the 
materials  with  which  imagination  might  work.  The  conclu- 
sions to  which  he  was  conducted  by  his  own  investigations,  the 
conceptions  which  existed  in  his  own  mind,  he  did  often  com- 
municate to  others  by  analogies,  similitudes,  and  imagined 
cases ;  and  this,  it  is  conceived,  is  their  legitimate  use. 

He  had  a  high  relish  for  literary  pursuits,  and  greatly  enjoy- 
ed the  society  of  literary  men.  And  it  will  be  regarded,  by 
those  who  are  able  to  appreciate  it,  as  one  of  the  most  remark- 


*  His  dreaming  imaginations  were,  sometimes  at  least,  as  regular  and  instruc- 
tive as  those  which  were  formed  in  obedience  to  the  will : — 

^^  Once  I  dreamed  of  being-  transported  to  heaven,  and,  being  surprised  to  find 
myself  so  calm  and  tranquil  in  the  midst  of  my  happiness,  inquired  the  cause. 
The  reply  was-— When  you  were  on  earth,  you  resembled  a  bottle  but  partly 
filled  with  water,  which  was  agitated  by  the  least  motion ;  now  you  are  like  the 
same  bottle  filled  to  the  brim,  which  cannot  be  disturbed." 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  389 

able  instances  of  his  self-denial,  that  he  could  abandon  a  pleas- 
ure of  which  he  was  so  highly  susceptible,  in  order  the  more 
effectually  to  promote  the  salvation  of  his  species.  It  may  well 
be  spoken  of  as  an  abandonment ; — for  when  he  gave  himself 
up  to  the  ministry,  he  ceased  to  cultivate  classical  literature 
for  the  s'ake  of  fame,  or  for  his  own  individual  gratification 
merely.  He  could  not  indulge  himself,  and  consume  his  time, 
in  refined  intellectual  luxuries,  when  souls  were  perishing 
around  him.  There  were  subjects  of  real  and  acknowledged 
utility — subjects  of  deep  and  everlasting  interest — pursuits  im- 
mediately connected  with  the  immortal  destinies  of  men,  suffi- 
cient to  employ  his  time,  and  task  his  best  powers.  To  learning 
of  doubtful  utility,  and  rare  application,  whether  recondite  or 
elegant,  he  paid  little  attention.  He  estimated  the  probable 
permanent  advantages  to  be  expected  from  different  pursuits, 
by  the  balances  of  the  sanctuary,  and  resolutely  forsook  those, 
however  consonant  to  his  inclinations,  "  where  the  gains  will 
not  pay  for  the  candle,  and  where  the  philosopher  and  the 
scholar  threaten  to  swallow  up  the  divine." 

Yet,  in  the  legitimate  sense  of  the  term,  he  was  a  philoso- 
pher. In  the  philosophy  of  that  department,  in  which  he  shone 
pre-eminently,  he  had  the  start  of  the  age.  He  anticipated  the 
substantial  improvements  in  the  manner  of  conducting  theolog- 
ical researches,  which  our  theological  seminaries  have  done  so 
much  to  introduce  and  extend.  His  discernment,  judgment 
and  good  sense  are  strikingly  apparent  in  the  course  which  he 
pursued  to  prepare  himself  for  the  pulpit.  Theology  he  regard- 
ed as  a  divine  science ;  and  he  sought  it  through  the  medium 
of  that  divine  revelation,  which  has  been  communicated  to  the 
world,  and  not  in  human  speculations.  He  studied  to  ascer- 
tain those  boundaries,  which  separate  what  may  be  known  by 
man,  from  that  which  must  for  ever  elude  his  research, — unless 
the  light  of  eternity  shall  reveal  it, — and  he  never  overstepped 
them.  He  stopped  at  ultimate  facts,  and  never  '  intruded  into 
those  things  which  are  not  convenient,'  and  of  which  the  sage 
knows  as  little  as  the  child. 

Those  whom  he  was  endeavoring  to  guide  to  heaven,  he 
also  strove  to  keep  within  the  same  limits ;  teaching  them  that 
*'  secret  things  belong  to  the  Lord,  but  the  things  that  are 
revealed,  to  them  and  to  their  children."  And  among  the 
"  things  that  are  revealed,"  he  distinguished  between  those 
which  are  capable  of  receiving  elucidation  from  human  discus- 
sion, and  those  that  mock  all  human  explanation,  and  with  re- 
spect to  which  the  very  attempt  would  be  *  darkening  counsel 
by  words  without  knowledge.'  There  was  no  doctrine  found 
33* 


390  MEMOIR  OF 

in  the  Bible,  which  he  hesitated  to  assert  and  defend ;  but  he 
guarded  against  resting  in  it  as  a  mere  speculation, — against 
'  holding  the  truth  in  unrighteousness.'  His  great  aim  was  to 
make  every  scriptural  theme  bear  with  force  upon  the  con- 
science,— to  have  every  doctrine  excite  its  correspondent  emo- 
tion, and  every  precept  its  obligation.  If  his  success  is  not  an 
adequate  recommendation  of  his  practice,  the  experience  of  the 
church,  in  past  ages,  holds  out  an  affecting  warning  of  the  evils 
of  a  contrary  course.  "  Christianity,"  says  a  recent  writer, 
*'  has,  in  some  short  periods  of  its  history,  been  entirely  dis- 
sociated from  philosophical  modes  of  thought  and  expression ; 
and  assuredly  it  has  prospered  in  such  periods.  At  other  times, 
it  has  scarcely  been  seen  at  all,  except  in  the  garb  of  metaphys- 
ical discussion,  and  then  it  has  lost  all  its  vigor  and  glory." 

It  has  been  supposed  by  some,  that  there  must  have  been 
a  deplorable  leanness  in  his  discourses,  as  it  respects  the 
essential  and  peculiar  doctrines  of  the  gospel.  This  suspicion 
may  never  have  prevailed  extensively,  and  it  is  not  certainly 
known  on  what  it  is  founded.  It  may  have  arisen  from  the 
fact,  that  such  multitudes  flocked  to  hear  him,  in  connexion 
with  another  fact,  viz.,  the  sinful  opposition  of  the  human 
heart  to  the  humbling  doctrines  of  the  cross.  In  regard  to 
some,  it  may  have  arisen  from  the  fact,  that  he  reasoned 
without  the  parade  of  reasoning  ;  that  he  argued  without 
reducing  his  arguments  to  the  dry  bones  of  a  syllogism  ;  that 
he  was  not  accustomed  to  assume  a  bold  and  startling  position, 
and  then  declare,  in  due  form,  how  he  was  going  to  prove  it. 
It  may  have  arisen  from  the  fact,  that  he  always  preached  so 
as  to  be  understood,  and  left  no  room  for  the  inference,  that 
he  must  be  a  deep  man,  because  his  meaning  could  not  be 
apprehended.  But  whether  the  suspicion  be  owing  to  any  or 
none  of  these  causes,  it  is  doubted  whether  it  has  any  better 
foundation  to  rest  upon.  He  did  not  '  walk  in  craftiness,  nor 
handle  the  word  of  God  deceitfully.'  He  could  have  conceal- 
ed nothing  from  design,  which  it  was  obligatory  on  him  to 
declare  ;  for  this  would  be  contrary  to  his  whole  character. 
Friends  and  foes  alike  gave  him  credit  for  honesty  and  plain 
dealing.  It  could  not  be  for  want  of  courage  ;  for  he  feared 
not  the  face  of  flesh ;  and  some  of  the  practical  discourses 
which  he  delivered,  it  required  tenfold  more  of  moral  heroism 
to  pronounce,  than  it  would  the  most  offensive  doctrines. 
Sinners  might  sit  and  hear  the  doctrines  of  election  and 
reprobation  defended,  and  not  feel  half  the  opposition  of  heart, 
which  would  be  drawn  forth  by  Dr.  Pay  son's  practical  ser- 
mons, particularly  such   a  sermon  as  that  in  which  fraud  is 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  391 

exposed  and  condemned  ;  and  other  evil  practices  did  not 
receive  a  w^hit  more  indulgence  from  him. 

Others,  again,  who  vi^ere  at  a  loss  to  account,  on  satisfacto- 
ry principles,  for  the  attraction  which  drew  and  bound  so  many 
to  him,  have  ascribed  his  influence  to  different  causes ;  as, 
an  artful  and  impassioned  oratory,  a  talent  for  amusing  an 
audience,  and  even  to  rant !  No  flattering  compliment,  to  be 
sure,  to  his  hearers ;  but  it  should  be  stated,  by  way  of  apology 
for  these  surmises,  that  their  authors  lived  at  a  distance,  and 
did  not  know  him.  A  little  knowledge  of  human  nature  might 
have  been  sufficient  to  correct  such  an  error.  No  man,  by 
such  means,  could  have  sustained  a  growing  reputation,  in 
the  same  place,  for  a  period  of  twenty  years,  receiving  contin- 
ual accessions  to  his  flock,  which  included  a  fair  proportion  of 
professional  characters,  and  men  of  cultivated  minds.  There 
was,  it  is  true,  always  something  in  his  discourses  to  delight 
the  mind,  even  when  his  language  was  the  vehicle  of  unwel- 
come truths  ;  but  he  never  uttered  any  thing  from  the  pulpit 
with  the  view  to  amuse.     Never  did  he 

"  Court  a  grin,  when  he  should  woo  a  soul." 

There  was  nothing  of  stage  effect  either  in  Dr.  Payson's 
personal  appearance  or  in  his  eloquence — no  imposing  atti- 
tudes or  gestures — no  extremes  of  intonation — no  affectation 
of  tears.  It  was  simple  nature,  sanctified  by  grace,  uttering 
the  deep  convictions  of  the  heart,  and  pleading  with  fellow 
sinners  to  become  reconciled  to  God,  It  was  the  eloquence 
of  truth  spoken  in  love.  The  words  seemed  to  come  from  his 
mouth  encompassed  by  that  glowing  atmosphere  in  which 
they  left  the  heart,  and  to  brand  their  very  impression  in  every 
heart  on  which  they  fell. 

On  account  of  the  rapid  increase  of  his  church,  some  have 
imagined  that  he  must  have  admitted  persons  of  dubious  piety. 
A  venerable  minister  in  another  state  once  sent  him  a  mes- 
sage— and  by  a  member  of  his  church  too — "  not  to  make 
Christians  too  fast."  To  say  nothing  of  the  brotherly-kind- 
ness of  such  an  insinuation,  conveyed  by  such  a  messenger, 
it  may  be  doubted  whether  that  good  man's  successor  did  not 
find  as  much  "  wood,  hay,  and  stubble,"  in  the  superstructure 
of  his  own  erecting — as  much  at  least  in  proportion  to  its 
dimensions — as  did  Dr.  Payson's.  And  yet  he  was  a  man 
of  known  and  acknowledged  fidelity.  What  church  does 
not  receive  and  retain  hypocrites  ?  If  such  characters  found 
their  way  into  Dr.  Payson's  church,  his  skirts  are  clear  of  their 


392  MEMOIR  OF 

blood  :  he  aimed  to  do  his  duty  faithfully,  and  no  minister 
was  ever  more  attentive  to  church  discipline.  Facts,  which 
have  appeared  so  wonderful,  and  have  been  accounted  for 
in  so  many  conjectural  ways,  will  not,  perhaps,  appear  surpris- 
ing, when  his  private  devotions  and  public  labors  become 
more  extensively  known.  Perhaps  it  will  be  felt,  that  the 
means  which  he  employed,  and  which  God  blessed,  bore  as 
full  a  proportion  to  their  results  as  in  *other  ordinary  cases. 

It  has  been  supposed,  too,  that  his  person  and  peculiar 
mental  characteristics  were  the  bond  of  union,  which  kept  his 
church  and  parish  together,  and  that  when  he  should  be  re- 
moved, the  massive  body  would  fall  to  pieces.  This  expecta- 
tion has  shared  the  same  fate  as  many  predictions  of  which 
Dr.  Payson  or  his  people  were  the  subject.  During  the  whole 
trying  period  in  which  they  were  without  a  pastor,  their 
integrity  was  almost  unexampled.  Not  a  single  defection 
took  place  ;  proving  that  it  was  not  his  person  only,  but  the 
influence  of  his  doctrines,  which  united  them  as  one. 

The  truth  is,  no  man  ever  gained  a  reputation  as  a  preacher 
more  fairly  than  Dr.  Payson  ;  few  men  ever  earned — if  the  ex- 
pression is  allowable — more  success.  We  have  no  need  to  call 
in  the  aid  of  magic,  to  account  for  the  amazing  influence  which 
he  exerted  as  a  minister  of  Christ.  This  is  best  done  by  the 
simple  history  of  the  man — by  a  familiar  acquaintance  with 
what  he  was,  and  with  what  he  did.  The  foundation  of  his 
eminence,  and  of  his  influence,  was  laid  in  a  deep,  experimen- 
tal knowledge  of  those  spiritual  subjects  which  constituted  the 
themes  of  his  addresses  to  his  fellow  men.  This  quality  of  a 
religious  teacher  has  been  well  presented,  and  its  influence 
illustrated,  by  a  reviewer  of  his  sermons  in  the  Christian  Spec- 
tator.    Speaking  of  Dr.  Payson,  he  remarks : — 

"  Like  the  beloved  apostle,  whom  he  somewhat  resembled 
in  the  strength  of  his  imagination,  and  in  the  affections  of  his 
heart,  he  speaks  as  if  from  actual  observation.  His  language, 
in  the  impression  which  it  makes  upon  the  mind,  is,  ''  That 
which  we  have  heard,  which  we  have  seen  with  our  eyes, 
which  we  have  looked  upon,  and  our  hands  have  handled  of 
the  word  of  life,  declare  we  unto  you,  that  ye  also  may  have 
fellowship  with  us."  In  perusing  these  sermons,  it  seems  as 
if  their  author  had  actually  seen  with  his  own  eyes  the  spirit- 
ual objects  he  describes, — that  he  had  actually  heard  from 
Christ,  talking  with  him  face  to  face,  the  truths  which  he  de- 
clares. The  man  who  has  thus  seen  spiritual  objects  with  the 
clear  eye  of  faith,  is  acquainted  with  them  in  their  minutest 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  393 

parts,  and  can  therefore  communicate  instruction  respecting 
them  with  a  familiarity,  clearness,  and  impressive  interest, 
which  we  in  vain  look  for  in  any  other.  There  is  the  same 
difference  between  the  sermons  of  such  a  man,  and  those  of 
the  man  whose  knowledge  is  derived  more  from  the  experi- 
ence of  others  than  from  his  own,  that  there  is  in  the  descrip- 
tion of  a  country,  by  one  who  has  drawn  his  information  from 
books  of  travels,  and  that  given  by  him  who  writes  upon  the 
spot,  with  the  objects  themselves  before  him.  A  compilation, 
though  made  by  an  author  of  talents,  cannot  compare  in  interest 
with  an  original  work  by  a  man,  even  of  inferior  abilities,  who, 
in  addition  to  the  means  of  knowledge  possessed  by  the  other, 
has  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  personal  observation.     *     *     * 

"  The  professed  theologian  may  give  general  views  of  the 
divine  government,  of  its  multiplied  relations,  of  its  friends 
and  enemies  ;  he  may  present  to  his  hearers — if  we  may  ven- 
ture on  the  expression — the  statistics  of  heaven  and  hell ;  and 
yet  what  he  says  may  consist  of  such  meager  statements,  as  to 
awaken  but  little  interest  in  any  except  those  who  have  made 
theology  their  study.  A  correct  synopsis  of  Christian  doc- 
trine is  not  the  same  as  a  full  exhibition  of  practical  Christian- 
ity. As  a  mere  intellectual  effort,  an  infidel  can  present  an 
outline  of  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel ;  but  none  but  a  pious 
man  can  write  such  a  book  as  Wilberforce's  Practical  View  of 
Christianity,  because  none  but  a  pious  man  can  have  experi- 
enced what  is  there  described  in  almost  every  page  ;  and,  with- 
out experience,  it  would  be  as  difficult  to  frame  these  descrip- 
tions, as  for  a  l3lind  man  to  write  a  work  on  colors.  The  more 
extensive  the  experience,  the  more  minute  will  be  the  knowl- 
edge, and  the  more  full  its  exhibition  to  others.  There  are 
degrees  of  spiritual  illumination.  Some  Christian  ministers 
do  not  see  spiritual  objects  in  as  strong  a  light  as  others  ;  and 
while  they  suffer  this  partial  darkness  to  remain  in  their  minds, 
they  cannot  exhibit  these  objects  to  their  hearers  in  their  ut- 
most distinctness.  Such  a  one  may  give  correct  general  views, 
but  they  are  comparatively  cold  and  shadowy.  He  may  use 
the  same  words  which  eminent  Christians  have  used  in  describ- 
ing Christian  experience,  but  they  seem  to  stand  as  mere  words 
in  his  mind. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  the  author  of  the  sermons  under  con- 
sideration evidently  enjoyed  a  high  degree  of  spiritual  illumi- 
nation. He  seems  to  have  an  abundant  stock  of  materials  in 
his  own  mind.  He  not  only  can  present  a  general  outline,  but, 
like  the  traveller — to  recur  to  our  illustration — he  can  fill  up  the 
picture  with  what  his  own  eyes  have  seen.     When  he  men- 


394  MEMOIR  OF 

tions  faith  and  repentance,  he  speaks  as  one  who  has  looked  upon 
the  very  objects  towards  which  these  graces  are  directed  ;  and 
he  is  therefore  able  to  make  others  see  the  same  objects  like- 
wise, and  to  feel  as  he  has  himself  felt  towards  them.  When 
he  speaks  of  God,  he  speaks  as  if  he  had  walked  with  him,  and 
knew  him  intimately.  When  he  describes  the  character  of 
Christ,  he  describes  it  as  if  he  had  followed  him  closely,  and 
knew  exactly  how  he  walked.  He  speaks  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
as  if  he  had  felt  his  power  upon  his  own  soul  in  his  convin- 
cing and  sanctifying  influences.  He  speaks  of  hell,  as  if  he 
himself  had  looked  with  agonizing  fears  through  all  its  gloomy 
caverns.  He  speaks  of  heaven,  as  if  he  had,  like  Paul,  been 
transported  to  the  third  heavens,  and  heard  unspeakable  words. 
There  are  many  passages  in  his  sermons,  in  which  his  vision 
of  heaven  seems  to  be  nearly  as  distinct  as  that  which  he  en- 
joyed just  before  his  death,  as  described  in  a  letter  to  his  sister. 
*         *  *  * 

"  The  man  who  has  had  such  visions  of  heaven,  will  speak 
of  eternal  realities  with  a  truth  that  others  will  strive  in  vain 
to  imitate  ;  and  he  will  be  listened  to  with  the  same  deep  feel- 
ing which  the  words  of  one  would  create,  who  had  actually 
risen  from  the  grave,  and  come  back  to  his  brethren  of  the  hu- 
man family,  to  give  them  an  account  of  the  secrets  of  the  in- 
visible world." 

His  topics  embraced  the  whole  range  of  scriptural  subjects. 
He  had  no  hackneyed  theme,  no  wearisome  monotonousness 
of  manner  in  treating  it.  Those  subjects,  for  the  recurrence 
of  which  there  was  the  most  frequent  occasion, — such,  for  in- 
stance, as  relate  to  the  Saviour's  death,  which  was  commemo- 
rated monthly  by  his  church, — never  lost  any  of  their  interest 
under  his  treatment ;  but  were  made  to  awaken  a  new  train 
of  thought  and  reflection,  or  were  presented  in  some  new  rela- 
tion. Christ  crucified  was,  indeed,  an  exhaustless  theme.  It 
was  the  **  life  of  all  his  preaching.  He  every  where  gives 
most  exalted  views  of  Christ,  beholding  and  declaring  him  as 
*  God  manifested  in  the  flesh,'  and  invested  with  all  the  pre- 
rogatives and  glories  of  Mediatorship.  He  sought  continually 
to  bring  Christ  before  the  eyes  of  sinners,  for  whom  he  had 
suffered,  bled,  and  died.  Christ  v/as  the  sun  of  his  system  ;  he 
referred  every  thing  to  him,  and  showed  all  truth,  duty,  hope, 
privilege,  and  happiness,  as  related  to  him.  In  a  word,  as 
Christ  was  every  thing  to  his  feelings,  as  a  humble  truster  in 
his  mercy,  so  he  was  every  thing  in  the  instructions  which  he 
imparted,  as  his  minister.      He  had  none  of  that  affected  scru- 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  395 

pulousness  of  an  erroneous  conscience,  which  professes  to 
shrink  from  giving  to  Christ  *  the  glory  due  unto  his  name/ 
Him,  as  '  without  controversy'  the  *  brightness  of  the  Father's 
glory,  the  express  image  of  his  person,'  and  who  is  'over  all, 
God^  blessed  for  ever,'  he  loved  to  worship,  hortor,  preach,  and 
show  to  dying  men,  as  the  '  confidence  of  all  the  ends  of  the 
earth.'  "* 

Dr.  Payson  was  a  preacher  whom  none  could  hear  with  in- 
difference. His  discrimination  of  characters,  and  adapt^dion 
of  truth  to  the  different  classes  of  hearers  ;  his  skill  in  guiding 
the  sword  of  the  Spirit  so  as  to  pierce  the  consciences  of  the  im* 
penitent,  rendered  it  impossible  for  them  to  hear  him  unmoved. 
"  He  showed  an  intimacy  in  the  secret  chambers  of  the  hu- 
man heart,  such  as  is  gained  only  by  much  self-acquaintance, 
and  accurate  observation  of  men  ;  analyzed  the  operations  of 
the  unsanctified  will  and  affections  with  peculiar  skill ;  told 
the  sinner,  with  startling  particularity,  of  things  that  passed  in 
his  breast ;  followed  him  into  his  hiding  places,  to  allure  and 
warn  him  away ;  stated,  with  unshrinking  faithfulness,  hum- 
bling facts  respecting  his  motives  of  action  ;  described  his  er- 
rors and  self-deceptions  with  a  fairness  and  exactness  which 
could  iiot  easily  be  disputed  ;  showed  the  hazards  of  his  un- 
scriptural  dependences  ;  and,  in  the  full  blaze  of  Scripture 
light,  set  forth  all  the  dangers  and  guilt  of  self-delusion."*  If 
they  went  away  from  the  sanctuary  "  filled  with  wrath,"  and 
determined  to  hear  him  no  more,  the  resolution  was  but  a 
thread  of  tow  amidst  the  fires  of  conscience. 

"  But  he  preached  to  the  consciences  of  those  in  the  church 
who  were  in  a  state  of  spiritual  declension,  as  well  as  to  those 
who  were  living  in  impenitence.  While  he  who  had  confess- 
edly no  hope,  and  the  self-deceived,  were  made  to  tremble,  the 
wanderer  from  the  fold  of  Christ  was  also  made  to  feel  and  to 
confess,  *  I  have  sinned  ;  what  shall  I  say  V  Come,  and  let 
us  return  unto  the  Lord.'  "* 

*  In  his  preaching  he  was  a.ccustomed  to  discriminate  close- 
ly between  religion  in  name  and  profession,  and  religion  in 
fact ;  to  present  the  high  and  serious  tests  furnished  by  the 
word  of  God ;  to  render  careful  and  faithful  assistance  to  the 
professing  Christian,  in  ascertaining  the  presence  or  absence 
of  grace.  This  was  not  done  in  a  way  of  random  skepticism, 
into  which  ministers  and  private  Christians  sometimes  fall, 
and  in  which  painful  uncertainty  about  one's  spiritual  state  is 
still  unrelieved  by  fair  examination.     It  was  a  discrimination 

^  Spirit  of  the  Pilgrims. 


396  MEMOIR  OF 

made  by  presenting  the  Scripture  view  of  the  evidences  of 
grace,  and  the  Scripture  account  of  the  modes  and  dangers  of 
mistake  respecting  the  existence  of  those  evidences.' 

^*  The  preaching  of  Dr.  Payson  was  well  adapted  to  '  feed  the 
church  of  God,'  and  to  promote  the  advancement  of  Christians 
in  the  divine  life.  With  him  this  was  an  object  of  more  than 
common  thought  and  labor.  Bunyan's  character  of  Great 
Heart  exhibits  the  qualifications  of  the  spiritual  Shepherd  in 
an  interesting  manner,  and  many  of  the  features  of  it  were 
discernible  in  the  discourses  of  Dr.  Payson.  To  elevate  and 
enliven  the  faith  of  Christians,  to  increase  the  fervor  of  their 
love,  to  assist  them  to  obtain  and  keep  lowly  views  of  them- 
selves, to  promote  the  tenderness  of  godly  sorrow,  and  like- 
wise to  animate  their  joys,  confirm  their  hopes,  promote  the 
increase  and  steadiness  of  their  comforts,  and  to  incite  them  to 
press  forward  and  mount  upward  in  their  preparation  for  heav- 
en, were  the  objects  of  much  of  his  preaching.  He  sought 
to  promote  in  Christians  the  progress  and  enjoyments  of  holi- 
ness in  heart  and  life.  He  loved  to  witness  Christian  activity 
and  faithfulness,  and  preached  a  religion  to  be  lived,  and  which 
would  make  its  possessors  to  shine  as  lights  in  the  world. 
He  had  his  heart  fixed  on  the  promotion,  in  himself  and  oth- 
ers, of  holiness,  elevated,  dwelling  in  daily  communion  with 
God,  and  made  active  in  view  of  the  cross  of  Christ,  of  the 
judgment  to  come,  and  of  the  prospect  of  heaven.  And  his 
conceptions  of  the  obligations  resting  on  the  people  of  God  to 
live  in  the  exercise  of  such  holiness,  were  vivid  and  solemn.  The 
views  he  was  accustomed  to  give  of  Christian  character  were 
not  of  that  well  adjusted  '  form  of  godliness,'  in  which  *  a  name 
to  live'  may  be  preserved ;  but  he  exhibited  the  Christian  of 
the  Bible,  loving  holiness  and  seeking  it,  hating  sin  and  fly- 
ing from  it ; — he  brought  out  the  elements  of  grace,  as  to  be 
manifested  in  living  and  active  faithfulness."* 

He  was  distinguished  for  his  "  entire  devotedness  to  the 
spiritual  welfare  of  his  hearers.  He  might  have  had  a  practi- 
cal acquaintance  with  the  truths  of  the  Christian  religion,  and 
skill  in  selecting  those  truths  that  are  adapted  to  the  character 
of  his  hearers,  and  a  powerful  imagination  in  presenting  those 
truths  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  an  impression  ;  still,  with- 
out this  devotedness  of  feeling  to  the  spiritual  welfare  of  his 
hearers,  he  never  could  have  exerted  that  moral  power  upon 
their  minds,  which  attended  his  ministrations.  It  has  ever 
been  true,  that  those  who  have  distinguished  themselves  on  the 

*  Spirit  of  the  Pilgrims. 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  397 

broad  theatre  of  human  exertion,  in  arts,  in  arms,  in  science,  and 
in  moral  enterprise,  have  likewise  been  distinguished  for  the  en- 
thusiasm with  which  they  have  followed  the  object  of  their 
pursuit.  Such  a  state  of  mind  quickens  the  intellect ;  for  it 
has  almost  passed  into  a  maxim  with  the  masters  of  mental 
science,  that  the  conceptions  are  vivid  in  proportion  to  the  ex- 
citement of  the  feelings.  It  moreover  renders  the  mind  in- 
genious in  discovering  and  creating  means  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  object ;  '  Love  will  find  a  way  ;'  and  it  likewise 
prompts  to  perseverance  in  the  application  of  these  means. 
His  sermons  were  prepared  under  the  influence  of  an  intense 
desire  to  be  instrumental  in  leading  his  people  to  the  cross  of 
Christ  for  salvation.  To  accomplish  this,  all  the  faculties  of 
his  soul  were  concentrated ;  when  he  knelt  at  the  mercy-seat, 
his  people  were  earnestly  commended  to  God  ;  when  he  looked 
abroad  on  nature,  that  other  book  of  God's  revelation,  he  was 
always  in  search  of  motives  to  duty  ;  when  he  was  engaged  in 
severe  study,  or  in  reading  books  of  taste,  he  was  still  aiming, 
either  directly  or  indirectly,  at  promoting  the  spiritual  welfare 
of  his  people, — that  *  by  any  means  he  might  win  some.'  Ev- 
ery thing  was  subservient  to  this  object.  Having  a  full  heart 
and  a  full  mind,  persuasion  dwelt  upon  his  lips.  He  felt  emo- 
tion, and  therefore  expressed  it.  His  heart  is  always  awake. 
His  zeal  for  the  house  of  God  glowed  in  his  breast  like  a  con- 
suming passion  ;  it  wasted  the  powers  of  life."* 

That  his  mode  of  exhibiting  the  truths  of  the  gospel  was 
pre-eminently  felicitous,  we  have  one  very  pleasing  proof  in 
the  tenacity  with  which  his  instructions  are  remembered. t 
This  testimony  to  the  completeness  of  his  qualifications,  "  as  a 
workman  that  needed  not  to  be  ashamed,  rightly  dividing  the 
word  of  truth,"  still  exists  in  hundreds  of  hearts.  "  His  words 
were  as  nails  fastened  in  a  sure  place,  leaving  stings  in  the 
mind,  and  bidding  defiance  even  to  a  bad  memory  to  forget." 
A  specimen  of  his  pulpit  discourses  is  already  before  the 
public,  and  will  speak  their  own  defence.  That  they  want 
much,  which  gave  them  interest  and  effect  in  the  delivery, 
is  known  by  all  who  knew  him.  A  ministering  brother,  at  a 
distance,  after  he  had  read  the  volume,  thus  wrote — "  That 
speaking  eye,  and  thrilling  tone,  and  those  flashes  of  holy  fire, 

*  Christian  Spectator. 

t  The  editor  of  his  posthumous  sermons,  during-  the  progress  of  the  volume, 
in  answering  inquiries  respecting  them,  was  frequently  interrupted  with — "  1 
hope  such  a  sermon  will  be  one" — the  subject  being  named  at  the  same  time. 
This  wish  was  heard,  not  from  inhabitants  of  Portland  only,  but  from  others, 
who  had  changed  this  residence  for  another,  from  five  to  fifteen  years  before. 

34 


398  MEMOIR  OF 

and  that  countenance,  which  at  times  seemed  more  than 
mortal,  I  do  not  indeed  find.  Probably  most  of  those  glowing 
illustrations  and  irresistible  appeals  were  made,  even  when  he 
had  a  written  discourse  before  him,  from  the  inspiration  of  the 
moment.  Still  there  is  so  much  of  the  original  in  these 
pieces,  that  the  lineaments  of  his  celestial  soul  can  be  easily 
traced. — His  eloquence  was,  in  the  language  of  Milton,  "  the 
serious  and  hearty  love  of  truth ;  his  mind  fully  possessed  with 
a  fervent  desire  to  know  good  things,  and  with  the  dearest 
charity  to  infuse  the  knowledge  of  them  into  others.  When 
such  a  man  would  speak,  his  words,  like  so  many  nimble  and 
airy  servitors,  trip  about  him  at  command,  and  in  well-ordered 
files,  as  he  Vvould  wish,  fall  aptly  into  their  own  places." 

The  amount  of  service  which  he  was  enabled  to  perform  is 
not  the  least  surprising  fact  in  his  history.  Almost  continually 
sinking  under  the  exhausting  effects  of  a  diseased  and  debil- 
itated frame,  he  was,  nevertheless,  *^  in  labors  more  abundant" 
than  most  who  have  no  such  infirmities  to  depress  them.  That 
he  ventured  beyond  his  strength,  and  often  exceeded  the 
bounds  of  prudence  and  duty,  is  very  true ;  but  it  was,  on  the 
whole,  a  wise  and  happy  arrangement  of  Providence,  which 
assigned  him  his  station  where  the  calls  to  exertion  were  fre- 
quent and  urgent.  The  regret  which  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel 
at  his  premature  departure,  hastened  as  it  was  by  his  incessant 
toils,  mental  and  bodily,  in  his  Master's  cause,  is  alleviated  by  the 
reflection,  that,  with  his  constitution  and  susceptibilities,  a  mo- 
derate degree  of  exertion  was  incompatible.  Beyond  all  doubt, 
his  life,  if  passed  in  a  state  of  comparative  inaction,  would  have 
much  sooner  terminated  :  his  sun  might  have  set  in  darkness, 
and  the  remembrance  of  him  perished  from  the  earth.  But 
God  had  "  provided  better  things  for  him,"  and  his  memory  is 
blessed. 

That  he  had  preached  the  gospel  fully  and  faithfully,  not 
shunning  to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God,  he  had  the 
testimony  of  his  conscience,  in  the  near  prospect  of  the  last 
tribunal.  To  repeated  interrogatories  in  relation  to  this  point, 
his  answers  were  full  and  unequivocal. 

The  religion  which  he  preached  and  exemplified  in  life 
sustained  him  in  the  hour  when  flesh  and  heart  failed,  and 
shed  unclouded  light  on  his  passage  to  the  unseen  world, — 
And  shall  we  say — we  here  borrow  the  language  employed  by 
a  valued  brother  on  occasion  of  his  death — "  Shall  we  say  that 
all  this  was  delusion,  and  an  unsubstantial  vision  ?  Shall  we 
imagine  that  this  most  active  mind  is  now  extinct  ?  that  this 
servant  and  friend  of  Jesus  Christ  is  annihilated,  is  lost  ?    Has 


EDWARD  PAYSON.  399 

the  tempest  stolen  him  away  ?  Long  tossed  on  the  billows,  has 
he  been  swallowed  up  by  the  deep  ?  Oh,  no !  But,  as  God  is 
true,  we  believe  he  has  entered  a  secure  haven,  where  the 
storm  is  not  heard, — where  the  agitation  of  the  elements  is  not 
felt, — where  no  wave  of  trouble  ever  breaks  upon  the  peaceful 
shore, — where  not  a  ripple  disturbs  the  deep  serenity,  which 
reflects  to  the  astonished  eye  the  beauty,  and  brightness,  and 
majesty  of  the  skies." 


400 


''BEHOLD  THY  MOTHER!" 

The  scene  at 'the  death-bed  of  Dr.  Payson,  described  on  page  370,  has  been 
happily  expanded  in  the  following  beautiful  lines,  from  the  chaste  zuid  fruitful 
pen  of  Mrs.  Sigourney.  The  eldest  son,  in  this  case,  is  not  the  eldest  child  j 
but  who  can  regret  an  innocent  mistake,  which  has  furnished  the  occasion  of 
so  much  tenderness  and  beauty  ? 

What  said  the  eye? — The  marble  lip  spake  not, 
Save  in  that  quivering  sob  with  which  stern  Death 
Doth  crush  life's  harp-strings. — Lo !  agaiti  it  pours 
A  tide  of  more  than  utter'd  eloquence — 
^^  Son  ! — look  upon  thy  mother  !" — and  retires 
Beneath  the  curtain  of  the  drooping  lids, 
To  hide  itself  forever.     'Tis  the  last, 
Last  glance ! — and  mark  how  tenderly  it  fell 
Upon  that  lov'd  companion,  and  the  groups 
That  wept  around. — Full  well  the  dying  knew 
The  value  of  those  holy  charities 
Which  purge  the  dross  of  selfishness  away ; 
And  deep  he  felt  that  woman's  trusting  heart 
Rent  from  the  cherish'd  prop,  which,  next  to  Christ, 
Had  been  her  stay  in  all  adversities. 
Would  take  the  balm-cup  best  from  that  dear  hand 
Which  woke  the  sources  of  maternal  love, — 
That  smile,  whose  winning  paid  for  sleepless  nights 
Of  cradle-care, — that  voice,  whose  murmured  tones 
Her  own  had,  moulded  to  the  words  of  prayer. — 
How  soothing  to  a  widow' d  mother's  breast 
Her  first-born's  sympathy ! 

Be  strong,  young  man ! — 
Lifi;  the  protector's  arm, — the  healer's  prayer  ! — 
Be  tender  in  thy  every  word  and  deed. 
A  Spirit  watcheth  thee ! — Yes,  he  who  pass'd 
From  ^aded  earth  up  to  the  full-orb'd  day, 
Will  be  thy  witness  in  the  court  of  heaven 
How  thou  dost  bear  liis  mantle. 

So  farewell, 
Leader  in  Israel ! — Thou  whose  radiant  path 
Was  like  the  angel's  standing  in  the  sun,* 
Undazzled  and  unswerving, — it  was  meet 
That  thou  shouldst  rise  to  light  without  a  clou  i. 

"^  Ufvclatioii,  xix.  17. 


•"  .be  lost  d»te  ^^P^aU  °°^^-- 


•JiV,. 


,JfiK' 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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